INSTITUTE LECTURES. 



LECTURES 



ON 



MENTAL AND MORAL CULTURE. 



BY. 



SAMUEL P. BATES, A.M., 

BTTPBEINTENDBNT OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION, 
CEA.WFOED COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA. 



^ 



" VHiatever career yon embrace, propose to yourselves an elerated aim, and pnt in 
its service an unalterable constancy."— I^rtwres on ihe Tru€, Beauti'/ul, and Good. M. 
Victor Cousin. 

"Knowledge is acquired with difficulty, -mth the sweat of the brow, at the price of 
humanity's pei-petual labor. Spontaneity is innocence, the golden age of thought ; but 
virtue is worth more than innocence, and virtue requires a continual struggle."— 
Eiitory of Modern Philosophy. Id. 



NEW YORK: 
A. S. BARNES & BURR, 

51 & 53 JOHN STREET. 



18 6 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 

A. S. BARNES & BURR, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 

District of Ne-vv York. 



STEREOTYPED BY PRINTED BY 

THOMAS B. SMITH & SOIJ, GEORGE W. WOOD, 

82 & 84 Beekman-st. cor. John and Dutch-sts. 




CONTENTS. 

LECTURE I. 

PAGE 

Dignity of the Teacher's Profession, 9 

LECTURE II. 
The Boyhood of Napoleon, 41 

LECTURE III. 
The Power of Spoken Thought, 84 

LECTURE IV. 
Vocal Culture, 122 

LECTURE V. 
The Study op Language, 153 

LECTURE VI. 
The Means and Ends op Education, 192 

LECTURE VII. 
Popular Education, 230 

LECTURE VIII. 

The Education op the Moral Sensibilities, 264 

LECTURE IX. 

Education and Democracy the True Basis op Liberty,.. 295 



PREFACE. 

The following Lectures, as the title indicates, 
were prepared for the use of Teachers' Insti- 
tutes, and have been delivered at intervals, be- 
fore these bodies, during the past five years. 
They were intended to be addressed to an as- 
sembly of teachers and citizens, such as are 
usually found at the evening sessions ; conse- 
quently, they are not designed for the exclu- 
sive reading of teachers. 

The attempt has been, to make the opinions 
developed thoroughly accord with the funda- 
mental principles of our institutions and form 
of government. The necessity to the safety 
and prosperity of the State, that every child 
should be educated, and that the wealth of 
the country should pay for this education, has 
been made a prominent feature. 

There will not be found in this volume a 



Vm PREFACE. 

systematic treatise for the special guidance of 
the teacher^ but those motives and incentives 
to preparation; which may serve to awaken in- 
quiry and stimulate thought. In the hope 
that it may contribute to the development of 
our noble school system, it is submitted to 
the pubKc. 

Meadville, June 6, 1859. 



LECTURE I. 

DIGNITY OF THE TEACHER'S PROFESSION. 

EYEKY man should regard his profession with 
pride. He should see in it something to chal- 
lenge his admiration and win his affections. He 
should seek to view it on its sunny side and in its 
fairest aspects. He should feel that love and regard 
for it that inspires him with energy and enthusiasm 
in its pursuit, that enables him to triumph over its 
difficulties, and to glory and revel in its charms. 

He who looks upon his profession with disfavor, 
who thinks meanly of its labors, and speaks dispar- 
agingly of those who belong to it, will inevitably 
be a drone. His labor will press upon him as 
drudgery. The action of all his powers will be 
sluggish, and in despising the pleasures of profes- 
sional pride, he misses the finest enjoyment of active 
life. There is no feeling more degrading to a man, 
than the thought that he is engaged in a business of 
which he is ashamed; than to feel that other men 
look upon him with contempt because he labors 
m it. It stifles every attempt to excel. It obscures 



10 DIGNITY OFTHE 

Kemark of Milton. Members of the body. 

every spark of genius and sinks him to the rank 
of a slave. 

In one sense there is no calling that possesses 
claims to dignity above another. The man who is 
engaged in the most menial occupation that is honest, 
may possess as pure a heart, as he who has won for 
himself the greatest earthly fame. The humblest 
laborer, that lugs bricks upon his back the day long, 
may possess the spirit and honor of a nobleman. 
" If two angels," says John Milton, " were to be sent 
from heaven, the one to be monarch of an empire, 
and the other to be a chimney sweeper, the difference 
in their minds would not be the value of a straw." 
Earthly and outward distinctions would have no 
weight. To do the wiU of Him who sent them 
would be their only care. To perform with fidelity 
the duties of the occupation to which, for the time, 
Providence has called us, should indeed be the 
object of our solicitude. 

But when we compare the results which the dif- 
ferent callings in life are capable of producing, we 
discover that there are different degrees of dignity to 
which each is entitled. Aside from the purity of a 
man's heart, and the fidelity with which he dis- 
charges his duties, there are the effects which his la- 
bors may produce upon those about him and upon 
society. The members of the human body are all 



11 

Ignorance a source of ills. Teachings of Providence. 

equally necessary to its life and symmetry, but in 
the results of tlieir action we readily admit the supe- 
riority of some in dignity and importance. The 
callings of life also have their comparative value, 
and exert their respective influences in the economy 
of the world's progress. Beyond the claims of the 
personal dignity of the individual, and of integrity 
and honor which should be cultivated in every pro- 
fession, there are grounds of distinction in the results 
of his labors. It makes very little difference with 
the progress of humanity, whether a shoemaker dis- 
plays great skill in his craft, or whether he be an 
awkward fellow. The result in either case will be 
the commendation or curses of a few dozen pimps 
and dandies. But the man on whose skill and en- 
ergy the permanent improvement, the mental growth 
of large numbers of human beings depends, has a 
higher destiny. 

The noblest object for which any man can live is, 
without doubt, the cultivation of that part of him 
which is imperishable. It is the mind that governs 
and directs us in all things, and if we would have 
our lives well ordered, and would be wisely gov- 
erned, we should seek first of all, generous mental 
culture. The many ills to which we are subject, and 
the troubles and vexations with which our lives are 
beset, result principally from ignorance. If we look 



12 DIGNITYOFTHE 



Man created for improvement. Mental development only begun in this life. 



abroad in the world, we see those classes of society 
enjoying least of the rational pleasures of life who 
have least knowledge. Those nations and tribes are 
most barbarous and brutish who are the most igno- 
rant. Self interest and present gratification, if these 
only were consulted, would confirm us in this opinion. 
The teachings of Providence point us to the same 
conclusion. We are created with the special design 
of improving our gifts. Had this not been the pur- 
pose of our existence, the Creator would have en- 
dowed us with instinct, and thus have put us for ever 
under the control of an iron necessity, like the beast 
of the field, the bird of the air, and the insect that 
flutters in the sunbeam. These can not improve 
their gifts, and they have no need of improvement. 
The cattle of to-day know no more than the cattle 
in the time of Abraham. The bird builds her nest, 
and the bee fashions its cell, as they did at creation's 
dawn. Were these to live a thousand years they 
would develop no new faculties^ they would make 
no improvement. Their knowledge is just sufficient 
for their needs. They eat, and sleep, and then lie 
down to die. But not so with the soul of man. It 
is endowed with faculties susceptible of indefinite 
expansion and improvement. At the earliest dawn 
of existence development begins, and from infancy 
to trembling age, he may by diligence and judicious 



teacher's profession. 13 

Obstacles to universal culture. Lord Bacon. 

culture, add strength and knowledge to his increas- 
ing stores. The accumulations of the fathers may be 
handed down to the sons, and thus from generation 
to generation, and from age to age, the soul of man, 
profiting by all that has been before it, may go on 
growing in strength and increasing in knowledge to 
the last syllable of recorded time. 

ISTor does development cease here. There is a 
more exalted view that opens beyond. The teach- 
ings of Nature and the direct testimony of Kevela- 
tion unite in proof, that the mortal life of man is but 
the beginning of his mental training. It is only the 
childhood to that more perfect development which 
shall succeed. It will be the business of eternity 
to unfold the height and depth of that knowledge 
which we can here see but dimly, and with a vision 
obscured by all those weaknesses to which flesh is 
heir. Our best acquirements are comparatively in- 
fantile and weak. The farther we advance in knowl- 
edge only makes our weakness and folly more appar- 
ent ; for the light which we gain, serves to show the 
boundless extent of that which remains to be learned, 
and leads us to that which it is not possible for us to 
know with our present light. The shortness of life 
prevents us from prosecuting at length those subjects 
even which our present powers and helps fit us to 
pursue. The great majority of mankind are pre- 



14 DIGNITYOFTHE 

Does God create for naught ? Employments in the future. 

vented by their position in society, by the necessity 
they are under of toiling early and late for the 
maintenance of themselves and families, from devot- 
ing the small space of this life to the development 
of their spiritual natures. But the man who gives 
his life to study is only able to master a few of the 
elements of knowledge. Look at the mind of such 
a man as Lord Bacon I Possessed of a comprehen- 
sion and a grasp which seemed to look upon the laws 
of the material world as with the eye of a God ! 
which seemed to range the universe at will, and 
pointed out those sound rules of investigation which 
have conducted to the splendid triumphs of modern 
science, and have reared so proud a trophy to his 
name ! And yet he felt when he died that he had 
but just entered the vestibule of knowledge ; that he 
had only torn aside a few of the obstructions from 
the field of discovery, and had set up an occasional 
landmark to point the way ; that he had only 
picked up a few pebbles upon the sea-shore, while 
its great caverns were full of hidden things and 
mysteries, which his earnest mind was thirsting to 
discover when he was called away I And does Grod 
create for naught? Does that Being bestow such 
gifts without granting the means for their improve- 
ment ? Though we but commence their cultivation 
in the brief period that is alloted to us in life, we 



teacher's profession. 15 



Spiritual improvement our highest duty. Dignity of the Profession. 



are impelled to the belief by every principle of hu- 
man judgment, that abundant opportunity will be af- 
forded for the full development of all our faculties, 
and the comprehension of unbounded knowledge. 
What more worthy occupation can employ our men- 
tal powers in a future state? Our physical needs 
will then be at an end, for our em.ployments will only 
pertain to pure spirit. There will then be no occa- 
sion for all that labor which is bestowed in acquiring 
lands, and houses, and costly furniture, and in an- 
swering those demands which are made upon us by 
fashion and the eyes of other people. For, if our 
lives have been consistent with His will, we shall 
live in mansions that are prepared for us, we shall 
need no protection or rest, for it is eternal sunshine 
and summer ; we are dressed in the white robes of 
purity, and the only occupations in which we can be 
engaged will be such as pertain to us as pure intelli- 
gences. 

We see then that the cultivation of the mind is 
the noblest work we can accomplish for ourselves ; 
that its results are unlimited in extent and unending 
in duration ; that we derive from this the highest 
gratification which a human being is capable of en- 
joying ; that we thus begin that work of develop- 
ment and improvement, for the attainment of which 
we are without doubt expressly created ; and that we 



16 DIGNITYOFTHE 

^neas at the tomb of Anchises. 

thereby secure the approval of Him, whose will it is 
our life and light to obey. For upon the faithful 
servant, who used the talents with unceasing dili- 
gence, were bestowed the cheering words of praise ; 
while he who hid his talent in a napkin, was sent 
away in disgrace with merited reproach. 

K what has been said be true, we must conclude 
that the profession, whose business it is to train the 
faculties and energies of mind, — to have under con- 
trol the spirits of childhood, fresh from the Creator's 
hand, — ^to impart knowledge which shall be the basis 
and key to other knowledge, — to lay burdens that 
will make strong the mental sinews, — to draw out 
and set in operation all the latent faculties, — to un- 
fold those laws immutable which exist in the phy- 
sical, the mental, and the moral, — to plan conquests 
and execute designs where the agencies are imma- 
terial and spiritual, — and to be the instrument of 
developing character that shall outlive the years of 
mortal life, such a profession can not be excelled in 
dignity. In our short-sighted judgment we are likely 
to lose sight of the importance that should be at- 
tached to it. The spiritual is too often obscured by 
the material and the tangible. 

When aEneas was crossing the seas, as it is given in 
Virgil's beautiful poetic account, he landed upon that 
island sacred to filial affection, and ordered games to 



Comparison of the Professions. Triumphs of the Farmer. 

be performed about the tomb of bis father Anchises. 
Among others he instituted prizes for those who 
would try their "skill with the swift arrow." The 
mark was a dove, tied high up upon the mast of the 
vessel. But when he came to award the prize, it 
was not bestowed upon him who hit the mast with 
his arrow, nor upon him who severed the string, nor 
yet upon him who pierced the dove in her upward 
flight ; but it was given to that aged chieftain whose 
far ascending shaft kindled amid the clouds of hea- 
ven, and marked its track with flame. 

"We are apt to forget that we are created with 
other faculties than those which pertain to us as ani- 
mals, — which minister simply to our physical ne- 
cessities. Surrounded as we are by the strife of men 
fast to be rich and eager to lay up goods where moth 
corrupts and where thieves break through, we lose 
sight of the fact that we have hearts and an emo- 
tional nature which demand our care and culture. 
Digestion is not the highest order of development of 
which this being of ours is susceptible. Had growth 
been the end of our existence, we could have been 
created without the means of locomotion, and stood 
with our arms extended like the oak of the forest. 
Had we simply been designed to fulfill the conditions 
of animal life, we could have been made like the lion 
who devours his prey and then sleeps by his lair till 



18 DIGNITYOFTHE 



Dignity and value of Teaching 



he needs more. But liow different in pnrpose and 
destiny is the creation of man ! 'What powers of 
thought and action is he not capable of displaying, 
how generous in impulse, how lofty in purpose, 
how sublime in virtue is he capable of becoming I 
Who can fully realize the invention displayed by 
Homer, the analytic acuteness of Aristotle, the sub- 
lime virtue of Socrates, the intuitive perceptions of 
Bacon, the broad generalizations of ISTewton, the in- 
comparable acquaintance with human thought and 
feeling displayed by Shakspeare, without entertain- 
ing a more exalted view of man's nature and man's 
destiny, and unceasing delight in the thought that he 
is himself a man, possessed of a spirit akin to these ? 

That we may have a just conception of the dignity 
and value of teaching, and the relation it sustains to 
the world's thinking, let us compare it with some of 
the other professions which are most highly esteemed 
among men, and are usually looked upon as the most 
honorable and dignified. 

It is indeed a noble occupation to till the soil. 
What glorious triumphs has the hand of the hus- 
bandman achieved ! He indeed eats the bread of 
labor, — he toils early and late, — and his garments at 
times are worn and dusty. But what shapes of 
beauty and magnificence does the earth take beneath 
his hand I He hews down the heavy forest, and lets 



Eemark of Cicero. Beauties of Creation. 

the warm sunlight in upon the damp, mouldy earth. 
He breaks the stubborn and rocky soil, and clothes 
it with verdure. He digs deep trenches and plants 
the vine, — with careful hand he prunes the too luxu- 
rious growth, and hangs beneath the broad green 
leaves long clusters of purple grapes. Orchards of 
mellow fruit glow in the autumnal sunshine, and 
along the hills are ridges of golden corn. In sum- 
mer time the choicest varieties of stock graze in the 
meadow beside the cool brook, and in winter they 
delight in warm shelter, and pure water, and un- 
stinted feed : and he rejoices to see them eat and 
thrive. It was that great lawyer and statesman, 
Cicero, who said, when contemplating amid the cares 
of state, the freedom and ease he enjoyed when sur- 
rounded by the labors of his farms, that it was his 
greatest delight to see his ewes eat and his lambs 
suck. 

But beyond this limited view, to the husbandman 
the volume of nature is wide open. He is in the 
very midst of the Creator's laboratory. It is indeed 
ennobling to be a tiller of the soil, and to see the 
work of creation that is constantly going on, — to 
witness the changes that are taking place in the vege- 
table, and mineral, and animal kingdoms, whereby 
the subtle and unseen elements take forms of beauty 
and magnificence — the fragrant shrub, the stately 



20 DIGNITYOFTHE 

Eesults of the Farmer's labor. Life of the Teacher. 

tree— the diamond, and the ruby — the gracefal turns 
and curves in the contour of ihe horse, the stately 
bearing of the king of beasts, and the strong wing 
of the king of birds. And yet, what is the purpose 
of the husbandman's work ? What the end of all his 
labors ? Why ! that when the seed time has passed 
and the harvest has come, he may furnish the market 
a few score bushels of grain, — that he may fit for the 
sacrifice a dozen bullocks, and half as many swine, — 
that he may store up in cellar and granary enough 
to feed himself and family till harvest shall come 
again. 

The life of the teacher is spent in a different 
sphere. There are none of the elements of natural 
beauty about him, that light up the path of the tiller 
of the soil. The herds lowing for their keeper, barns 
filled with plenty, the fruitery groaning with the 
orchard's bounty, the broad, rich acres of nicely cul- 
tivated land, — are not his. His home, it may be, is 
an up-stair tenement in some obscure court. His 
mornings and his evenings are spent in study, pre- 
paring for his daily task. If by chance he catch a 
breath of fresh air, laden with the fragrance of new- 
mown hay and apple blossoms, or the "sound of 
bees' industrious murmur," it is when wafted to him 
as he passes the garden wall of the farmer. His days 
are spent in the toil of the class-room. Patient and 



Discouragements. Patience. 

unceasing he must instruct tlie pupils committed to 
his charge. One may be quick to apprehend, and 
ready and attentive in all his tasks, while others are 
drones and laggards. But he must adapt himself to 
all. He may be obliged to repeat again and again, 
processes and explanations the most simple in their 
nature, and still realize the disheartening truth that 
he has failed in making them understood by dull 
and indolent members of his class. He may see his 
instructions disregarded, and his good advice thrown 
away. But he must be meek and patient still, and 
renew his attempts as though all were equally apt to 
learn and teachable in spirit, and never yield and 
never tire in his exertions for the improvement and 
welfare of the company that are gathered around 
him. Indulgent parents may pour into his ear the 
complaints of pampered and fault-finding children, 
who have perhaps escaped un whipped of justice, 
which, but for the kindness of his heart, would have 
been meted out to them. But he must take it all in 
sympathy and meekness, and still strive to go on in 
harmony. Who can tell the heart-eating cares that 
beset the life of the teacher in his accustomed round 
of tasks? "Who can recount the burdens that he 
bears on his bosom during his waking moments, 
and the perplexities that disturb his midnight slum- 
bers ? 



22 DIGNITYOFTHE 

Imperishable material. Extent of inlluence. 

Such is a picture of the daily life of the teacher. 
As an occupation, as a means of support and pas- 
time, it can not compare in independence and com- 
fortable living with that of the cultivation of the 
earth. But what is the end of his labors? The 
work which the teacher accomplishes is unending in 
its results. Eternity will alone sufiice to measure 
the fruits of his industry. He works upon a mate- 
rial that will never perish. When he labors to 
bring into operation all those faculties with which 
the minds of his pupils are endowed, and inspires by 
his enthusiasm their young hearts with a love for 
learning, and a reverence for the truths of science, 
and the beauties of literature, he wakes to action the 
energies of a living soul, — he tunes an instrument 
strung by the hand of the Creator, that will never 
cease to yield harmonious sounds. He disciplines, 
and trains for usefulness in life, those who come un- 
der his charge. But the influence of that training is 
not confined to those who received it. They go forth 
into life to impart to others in turn what they have 
realized ; 

" And each, as he receives the flame, 
Will light his altar with its ray." 

What calling merely secular can equal in dignity a 
work like this ? What profession in which the re- 



teacher's profession. 23 

Co-worker with the Creator. The Lawj'cr. 

sponsibilities are so great, in which the future teems 
with results so momentous ? The teacher is no less 
a personage than a co-worker with the Creator in the 
highest manifestations of his power. Without de- 
velopment, the mind of man is naught but a blank, 
a waste without beauty and without use. But when 
the hand of culture is laid upon it, it praises alike 
the handiwork of the Creator, and the developments 
it receives from him who trains it. So that the work 
of the latter approximates in dignity to the former. 

There is a grandeur in the profession of the law 
which is hardly equaled among the callings of life. 
Though so often sneered at and despised, for the 
reason that no profession is more shamefully abused 
by many of the class who should defend its honor 
and uphold its dignity, yet in its true purpose, and 
in its legitimate results it challenges our res23ect and 
veneration. It is the business of the lawyer to search, 
out the facts which shall show innocence or guilt, 
and thereby establish justice. The notion of a judg- 
ment for the purpose of establishing right, is one 
that inheres in the human mind, and is essential to 
veracity and honor. We can scarcely conceive a 
more exalted idea than that of a general judgment, 
when all the wrongs of ages shall be righted, when 
the rights of the abused and long-suffering shall be 
vindicated. But such is the daily labor of the law- 



24 DIGNITY OFTHE 

Defense of the guilty. Dignity of the law. 

yer. His office is to correct the wrongs which man 
suffers at the hands of his fellow-man. The idea 
very generally prevails, that an advocate can not 
take up on the side of the guilty without compro- 
mising his honor and his integrity. But even the cul- 
prit has rights which should be respected and de- 
fended. Because he is in the hands of the law and 
powerless, he should not be abused by the party that 
is interested to crush him. He should not be made 
to suffer for more than he is guilty of. It is quite as 
honorable to defend and protect conscientiously the 
rights of the accused, as to be engaged in the prose- 
cutiouj and even more creditable to a man's heart ; 

" For earthly power shows likest God's 
"When mercy seasons justice." 

The honest advocate does not agree to prove a man 
innocent when he is guilty, — to misrepresent and 
falsify to gain the suit of his client ; but to see that 
no more than justice be done, — that the rights and 
privileges of that client are respected, and that he se- 
cure '' even-handed" justice. In this light, the pro- 
fession of the law is noble and dignified. It awak- 
ens the finest feelings and sensibilities of the heart to 
feel that one is the vindicator of the injured, and 
taxes the noblest powers of the intellect to search 
out and set in order the facts that shall inevitably 



teacher's peofession. 25 

Teacher successful, Lawyer's " occupation 's gone." 

conduct to justice. To feel that the life or death of 
the client; the happiness or misery of an innocent 
and dependent family may hang upon his words, is 
sufficient to arouse him to the utmost of his capacity, 
and to inspire him with unwonted vigor. 

But the genuine faithful teacher does more than 
this. He is not only a vindicator of justice and a 
defender of truth and virtue, when trampled on by 
the offender, but he performs this labor prospectively. 
He labors to establish in the character, principles 
that are antagonistic to vice and crime, and to nur- 
ture in the heart sentiments and feelings which shall 
direct in the paths of rectitude and honor. His 
office is to smooth, and polish the gem whose ragged 
corners would otherwise tear and lacerate whatever 
it chanced to come in contact with. He subdues the 
spirit of contention, he inculcates the universal broth- 
erhood of man, and lifts his pupils up above the petty 
spirit of jealous}^ and revenge, which leads to those 
endless and harassing difficulties that principally oc- 
cupy the time of the lawyer. The dignity of these 
duties is apparent. They supersede in spirit the ne- 
cessity of the legal profession, and hence rise above 
it in honor. Whenever the mission of the school- 
master shall be made perfectly successful, then the 
lawyer's "occupation's gone." 

We prize beyond the value of gold those master* 



26 DIGNITYOFTHE 

The Artist. Teacher in honor. 

pieces of art scattered over Europe, whicli attract the 
connoiseur of every land. From generation to gen- 
eration, and from age to age, they are preserved with 
almost a religious veneration. We pronounce the 
name of the artist with a thrill of feeling which his 
own lofty genius alone can inspire. But he labors to 
produce the form and features of these frames of 
ours upon canvas and in marble ; and though he 
inspire these, dumb and cold as they are, with the 
grace and beauty of the moving, speaking form, yet 
it is but a shadow that he creates. Scarce has he put 
the final touch of his pencil, or has struck upon his 
chisel the last tinkling blows, ere time's effacing fin- 
gers are busy on its surface, and the canvas fades 
and moulders, and the marble is crumbling into dust. 
Not so with the work of the teacher. He draws the 
lineaments and features of life upon a human soul, 
warm with emotion and radiant with heavenly beauty. 
His work does not fade and crumble, but. is more 
enduring with years. Every line from his pencil 
takes deeper and brighter color as time wears on, 
and every stroke from his chisel lays bare veins of 
beauty -which grow richer with age, and take a 
higher polish from use. 

In ever}^ age the teacher has been held in honor. 
He is the interpreter to his own time of all the gener- 
ations of thinking men that have preceded him. He 



teacher's profession. 27 

Sibylline books. Rome. 

is the exponent of all cotemporary tliought. He is 
the chosen representative in the republic of letters. 
The men of every profession seek to read and un- 
derstand what he has written, and his books, like the 
books of fate which the Sibyl presented to the 
Eoman emperor, are preserved with religious care, 
and are studied with pious veneration. As we look 
back through the ages that are past, the eye rests on 
many nations that have, in their day, shone forth 
with transcendent glory, and have served as beacon 
lights to those which followed. There are Troy, and 
Thebes, and Athens, and Argos, and Sparta, and 
Carthage, and Eome. They have achieved universal 
fame. Though existing in those remote ages, the 
mellow light of their glory rests down upon them 
in unclouded serenity. And what among all their 
grand achievements and boasted honors have they 
bequeathed to us that we prize the most? The 
books of their schoolmasters. There is no other of 
their possessions that have come down to us, which 
can be compared to these. "Without them the glory 
of those nations departs, for it is their books that 
form the title-deed of their renown. 

When the Goth and the Vandal uncouth and 
savage, invaded Eome, and trampled out the last 
remaining spark of Eoman genius, the night of bar- 
barism settled down upon Europe and the civilized 



28 DIGNITYOFTHE 

Dark Ages. "Western and Eastern Empires. 

world. Eome was the last of the great heathen 
nations, and when the light of her civilization was 
extinguished, a period of gloom and ignorance suc- 
ceeded, which was significantly called the dark ages. 
Generation after generation passed, and we nowhere 
see any marked achievement of mind. There were 
no triumphs in literature, in science, in art, and con- 
sequently, there was no lofty impulse, no aspiring 
purpose, that anywhere moved the national heart. 
A universal gloom brooded over the nations. And 
what was it amid this thick darkness tha.t gave pre- 
sage of the approo.ching dawn? What was it that 
stimulated thought and kindled that flame which was 
soon to flood the world with light, and burn with 
increasing splendor? It was the books of a few 
schoolmasters, that had been hoarded up, and were 
now scattered to the four winds. Upon the fall of 
the Western Empire the writings of the Grecian and 
Eoman scholars were collected at Constantinople, 
and during that long period of intellectual darkness 
they were preserved and reproduced with vigilant 
and unceasing care. But at the breaking up of the 
Eastern Empire, and the overthrow of the power 
there concentred, the books that had been collected 
were scattered over the whole face of Europe, and 
the eneroies of the nations, which had lain dormant 
for more than three centuries, were inspired with 



teacher's profession. 29 

Printing-Press. Alexander the Great. 

new vigor. The compass was invented, whicli sent, 
Columbus in searcli of a new world. The discovery 
of the explosive nature of gunpowder civilized the 
profession of war ; and the invention of the printing- 
press scattered thought as the wind drives the chaff 
of the summer threshing-floor. The dozing millions 
over all Europe were aroused, like the giant Ava,king 
from his long slumbers and girding himself for great 
labors. The national pulse beat with new vigor, for 
an element of life and activity was poured into its 
veins. And this mighty revolution which followed 
was achieved by the books of a score or two of 
schoolmasters, who, centuries before, had lived and 
died in peace on the shores of the Mediterranean. 

In the same volume in which we read the history 
of Alexander the Great, we read that of Socrates. 
Alexander is recognized as one of the leading mili- 
tary chieftains of any age. His conquests extended 
over half of the civilized world. He was worshiped 
by his subjects as a demigod. While he lived he 
walked the earth in glory, but he died a miserable 
death, in a fit of beastly intoxication, surrounded by 
a circle of drunken revelers. Scarce was he cold in 
his grave, before the captains whom he had raised 
to power quarreled over his tomb for the spoils of 
empire. And whenever we utter his name, there is 
no thrill of gratitude and veneration. 



80 DIGNITYOFTHE 

Virtue of Socrates. His memory. Extent of his influence. 

Socrates, on the contrary, was an humble teacher ; 
who spent his days in the groves of the Academy, 
among his pupils, and dwelt beneath a "low-roofed 
house." 



-" But from his mouth issued forth 



Mellifluous streams, that watered all the schools 
Of Academics old and new, with those 
Sumamed Peripatetics, and the sect 
Epicurean, and the Stoic severe." 

His life was so pure and unsullied, and its closing 
scenes were characterized by such sublime virtue, 
that his praise has been upon the tongue of all suc- 
ceeding ages. His pupils gathered around him at 
his death, filled with unutterable grief, preserving 
with religious care every word that escaped his lips. 
The mention of his name thrills the heart with love 
and admiration for his character. The thoughts 
which were matured in his brain will never die so 
long as there are admirers of virtue, — and the con- 
sistency of his life, like the jewel on the brow of 
beauty, sheds unfading luster on his name. 

Socrates indeed lived to a great purpose. His 
power of intellect, the acuteness of his thoughts, and 
the logical correctness of his reasonings, have made 
him the teacher, not merely of the pupils gathered 
about him in a Grecian city and speaking the 
Athenian tongue, but he is the teacher of all time, 



teacher's profession. 31 

Washington. Aristotle, tutor of Alexander. 

and in every polished language of the earth. And 
yet, his intellectual greatness has achieved for him 
the least part of his fame. Many philosophers of 
his own time, in mental vigor and acumen would 
compare favorably with him. Bat in moral ex- 
cellence he stands alone. And when the teachers 
of other times have lectured to their pupils on the 
principles of virtue and moral rectitude, and have 
sought amid the records of the past for some ex- 
ample which should inspire them with enthusiasm in 
the pursuit and practice of it, they have pointed to 
Socrates, to the integrity and honor of his life and 
the sublimity of his death. It is only after the lapse 
of ages, that we can point to a life so pure and un- 
sullied, — that of our own "Washington. 

But even more intimately connected with the life 
of the great warrior Alexander, is that of his tutor — 
the companion of his younger days. AYhen Philip 
of Macedon desired a teacher, who should conduct 
the education of his son, he sought the services of 
Aristotle, an humble citizen of Stagira, who by his 
skill in the art of teaching had created for himself a 
reputation that attracted the attention of the king. 
And though the pupil became the hero of his time, 
and achieved a glory that rivaled in brightness and 
splendor the brilliancy of the noon-day sun, and cast 
for the time in shade and obscurity the teachings 



82 DIGNITY OF THE 

Philosophy of Aristotle. Bacon. Remark of Carlyle. 

of the humble tutor, yet the period was not far dis- 
tant when the deeds of the warrior were regarded as 
mere bold and daring exploits, brutal and bloody in 
execution, and unimportant in their results, so far as 
they related to his design, upon the progress of hu- 
manity ; while the teachings of the tutor have in- 
creased to an importance that far transcends that of 
any other man of ancient times. The systems of 
Aristotle became universal. In the domain of 
thought he was the monarch. His philosophy ruled 
the world for centuries, and even now his treatise on 
logic is the basis of the text-books in all our col- 
leges. Up to the time of Bacon his philosophical 
systems bore undisputed sway, and in the field of 
criticism he cau never be supplanted. 

Such is the profession, my brethren, to which we 
belong. Such are the men who have labored in it, 
whose teachings have been lights to the world that 
are still clear and bright as time wears od, and with 
whom we can now claim companionship. Such are 
the labors which this profession performs among 
those great agencies that work out the problem of 
civilization. In its results upon the race every other 
profession sinks into insignificance beside it. Mr. 
Carlyle has quaintly but very pointedly asked, " The 
great event, parent of all others, is it not the arrival 
of a great thinker in the world ?" It is surely the 



Perpetuity of letters. 



thought of the world that directs and controls its en- 
ergies, and it is no less sure that the teacher directs 
and controls its thought. Those nations that have 
been most respected and honored, and have left their 
impress upon the progress of the race, have shown 
their appreciation of the profession of the teacher. 

There are many events in the history of the past, 
that have for the tuTie excited the most absorbing 
interest, and have engrossed the attention of prince 
and people, which have long ago been forgotten, and 
were not considered of sufficient importance to pos- 
terity to form a part of the annals of the times. 
But if a king has invited to his court an humble 
schoolmaster, the fact is trumpeted to the ends of the 
world, and the historian is careful to record it upon 
his page. The best period in the history of every 
civilized nation has been that in which the reigning 
power and the people at large have shown most em- 
phatically their appreciation of the teacher's profes- 
sion. And well they may ; for it is by letters that 
the glory of a nation is perpetuated. In letters is its 
memory embalmed. 

We have thus far considered the profession of 

teaching absolutely, irrespective of the character of 

those who fill its ranks. The object has been to show 

its dignity from the results which it is designed to 

accomplish. The dignity of the profession is always 

2* 



34 DIGNITYOFTHE 

Common School Teachers. First requisite, capacity. 

and ever3^wliere the same. It is unchanging as 
truth. The ignorance or imbecility of its disciples 
may tarnish its luster and obscure its brightness, and 
society may be prevented from reaping those fruits 
which it is capable of bearing. But still the fault is 
not in the profession. 

I am aware that many whom I see about me are 
the teachers of our common schools. It may be 
proper, before concluding, to inquire how the com- 
mon school teacher, even in his humble sphere, 
may uphold its dignity and honor 

The first claim which he should seek to establish 
is that of capacity. No man can put confidence in 
another and intrust to him important duties without 
assurance of his abihty. He should therefore seek 
first of all liberal culture. He should never be con- 
tent with proficiency simply in those studies which 
he is required to teach. The grade of his school 
may be such that only the common English branches 
are comprised in the list ; but a knowledge of these, 
however elaborate, should never satisfy him. He 
can better illustrate to a child the first lessons in 
arithmetic who has a thorough acquaintance with 
the higher mathematics, than one who has no knowl- 
edge beyond the simple acquirements of the class 
he instructs. The light of Hberal culture throws its 
rays back upon even the rudiments of knowledge, 



teacher's profession. 35 

Mediocrity. Trials and perplexities. Archimedes, 

and makes them appear brighter and clearer. The 
resources for explanation and illustration are at hand, 
and he has the discretion and judgment to use them 
intelligently. The teacher who is satisfied with, a 
certificate of perfect qualification in the branches 
required by law to be taught will soon fall into a 
stereotype process, and will ere long be left to 
mediocrity and obscurity, by his more enterprising 
and ambitious brethren, in a profession whose fun- 
damental idea is progress and development. 

There are difficulties and trials which the teacher 
is constantly obliged to encounter. It is eminently 
a profession of labor and vexation of spirit. Per- 
plexing questions, involving the knowledge he ought 
to possess in order to inspire and hold the confidence 
of scholars and patrons, are constantly arising. But 
if amid all these harassing cares he has liberal cul- 
ture, if his mind has felt the strengthening influence 
of a thorough course in the gymnasium, he has a 
place on which to stand, from which he can not be 
moved. He has the spot of solid ground for which. 
Archimedes sighed. 

The teacher who expects to become eminent, will 
also be thoroughly versed in works of a professional 
character. In each of the other learned professions 
there are books detailing the theory and the practice 
of the art, and the young man wlio desires to enter 



86 DIGNITYOFTHE 

Importance of professional reading. True spirit of teacliing. 

either of them must become proficient in the princi- 
ples upon which it is based. This should be ex- 
pected of the teacher. The bare acquaintance with 
the several sciences should not constitute the max- 
imum of his knowledge. He should in addition to 
this be familiar with professional books particularly 
devoted to the practice of his calling. His success 
mainly depends upon the concej)tion he forms of the 
duties which his position brings with it. If he has 
no preconceived plans and purposes, then he will 
have none to execute when he arrives at the school- 
room, except such as are drawn forth by the emer- 
gency, and must be adopted or rejected without 
meditation. Those methods of governing and in- 
teresting scholars, which the best instructors have 
employed are unknown to him, and he must follow 
on the old beaten track, which those who taught him 
employed. But if his mind be thoroughly imbued 
with the true spirit of teaching, if he has acquainted 
himself with the opinions of those who have thought 
and written upon this science, his plans can be 
formed upon a basis of knowledge and mature de- 
liberation. He has the theory of his profession, and 
he can weigh the value of different methods, and 
adopt or reject according to his faith in them. He 
will have at his command the experience of those 
who have had eminent success, and have had a life- 



teacher's profession. 37 

" Waking up process " Keep even with the times. 

long acquaintance with its duties. His mind will be 
rendered fruitful in expedients for managing a school, 
for conquering the stubborn, for winning back the 
disobedient to filial respect and submission, for arous- 
ing the indolent to a sense of their shame, for quick- 
ening the powers of the dull and unthinking, and for 
animating all with the spirit of enquiry. He learns, 
instead of the dull routine of enforcing lessons at 
the point of the rod, to substitute the " waking up 
process." He experiences the most grateful reward 
of his labors which a teacher can know, that of see- 
ing his pupils love to learn, and delight most of all to 
be about him. To this end he should also have the 
leading educational periodicals, and thus familiarize 
himself with the improvements which are being 
made, and those methods which are practiced by our 
most distinguished educators. He should, ^ in a word, 
acquaint himself with the last best thoughts which the 
world has produced upon the subject, and thus keep 
even with the times. 

Finally, the teacher who desires the respect and 
confidence of cultivated and thinking men, should 
possess extensive general information. Many of our 
young men who aspire to this position are shame- 
fully ignorant of the most common and familiar facts. 
A teacher once enquired of me if Benjamin Franklin 
lived in Boston now. And that young man was a 



38 DIGNITY OFTHE 

Ludicrous error. Historical reading. General literature. 

proficient in Latin and matliematics, and was a splen- 
did scholar in the Greek. Another, when, in con- 
versation with him, I chanced to mention the name 
of Alexander Hamilton, wanted to know if he was 
not the president of Princeton Theological School. 
When I told him that it was Dr. Alexander to whom 
he probabl}^ had reference, " Oh! yes," said he, "that 
is the man I meant." This young man was about to 
graduate from college, and was actually making in- 
quiries about a subject suitable for his graduating 
oration. Such shameful ignorance of the commonest 
facts in our history is unpardonable. It is the fruit- 
ful source of that derision in which many of our 
class are held. 

Let every teacher possess himself of a few books 
on history, and especially the history of our own 
country, so as to be able to trace out our na- 
tional origin, and the statesmen who have taken a 
prominent part in public affairs. He should be mi- 
nutely acquainted with the constitution of the United 
States, and with the opinions of those who framed 
and adopted it. He should know something of the 
history of politics, and the positions which parties 
have held in the past. He should pursue a course 
of reading in general literature, acquaint himself with 
the best authors, and become familiar with their f -yle 
and peculiarities. Let him study the poetry of che 



teacher's profession. 39 

Devotion to the Profession. Not one of ease. 

great masters, and be able to converse intelligently 
in a company of educated people upon any topic 
connected with its structure and allusions. If any 
young man thinks this too much for him to accom- 
plish, then he had better quit the profession. 

To the genuine, whole-souled teacher, nothing is 
impossible. He will never submit quietly and tamely 
to pass in the company of well-bred people, as a boor 
and a novice. He will work when others sleep. He 
will gather his knowledge from every source, from 
conversation, from his daily walks, from his scholars, 
and from his own quiet meditations. He will forego 
the gratification of sense and the pleasures of the 
passing hour, for that higher pleasure which flows 
from the consciousness of intellectual superiority. 

The life of the teacher is not one of ease. Though 
his labors are not apparent, and he does not create so 
much noise and stir in the world as some who are 
engaged in other occupations, yet they are not on 
this account the less arduous and real. A few of the 
elements of success have been named. It is only by 
possessing these, and indeed vastly more, that the 
teacher can claim any part of that dignity which is 
inherent in the profession. He must never expect 
that it is to endow him with any honors if he has 
not first earned them. If he depends upon the pro- 
fession for his dignity, without any real claims, he 



40 THE teacher's PROFESSION. 

No dignity without merit. 

will be of all men the most undignified. For the 
more honorable the profession, ,the more shame to 
the man who proves himself unworthy of belonging 
to it. If we are scholars and play the man, we shall 
at least merit the reward. The great lights of the 
past are the companions of our labors. The future 
teems with opportunities. The field is already white 
for the harvest. We have only to thrust the sickle 
in. He who is worthy shall wear the crown, and 
vindicate the dignity of the Teacher's Profession. 



LECTURE II. 

THE BOYHOOD OF NAPOLEON. 

A TRUTHFUL history of the youth and educa- 
tion of one, who in manhood has manifested 
transcendent powers of mind, must always be of in- 
terest. If the conduct and glory of his life has 
attracted unusual attention, there is a natural desire 
to be acquainted with that portion of it which tran- 
spired before he had come to public notice. But to 
the rising generation, to those who are now receiving 
that education which is to guide and support them 
through life, the early history of such a man is of 
vital importance. If a certain course of training has 
conducted him to success in what he has undertaken, 
it is fair to infer that similar training will exert a 
corresponding influence. If a well- spent youth has 
been rewarded with fortunate results, it will yield 
encouragement for others to go and do likewise. If 
his education has borne rich fruits in mature years, 
it will be profitable for us to inquire, what was the 
course of studies that he pursued, and what was the 
manner of pursuing them. When a man has arisen 



42 THEBOYHOOD 

Labor and genius. Observation of Sir Sydney Smith. 

from poverty and obscurity to such a brilliant career 
as that of Napoleon, the force of his early example 
speaks to us in a voice that commands universal 
attention. 

We are apt to look upon every marked achieve- 
ment of human effort as having been secured by 
genius — ^by gifts the special manifestation of Provi- 
dence. The young especially, are ever ready to 
believe that labor and genius are incompatible. 
They would transfer that halo of glory, that sur- 
rounds the reputed feats of the gods of antiquity, to 
the real heroes of history. There can be no belief 
more fatal to the claims of true greatness, and at no 
period of life is it more disastrous to entertain it than 
in youth. 

Sir Sydney Smith has appropriately observed, that 
'' it would be an extremely proh table thing, to draw 
up a short and well authenticated account of the 
habits of study of the most celebrated writers with 
whose style of literary industry we happen to be 
most acquainted. It would go very far to destroy 
the absurd and pernicious association of genius and 
idleness, by showing that the greatest poets, orators, 
statesmen, and historians — men of the most brilliant 
and imposing talents, have actually labored as hard 
as the makers of dictionaries and the arrangers of 
indexes ; and that the most obvious reason why they 



OF NAPOLEON. 43 

Genius and idleness. Five talents ten. Napoleon the warrior. 

have been superior to otlier men, is that thej have 
taken more pains than other men." 

Could such a collection be made, it woiild but add 
another proof to the many which already exist, that 
the only true glory of man is labor ; and that so far 
from labor being incompatible with genius, it is in 
fact the creator of it. The most brilliant powers 
with which Heaven is pleased to endow men, must 
inevitably grow weak under the blighting influence 
of sloth and inactivity. While labor makes the five 
talents ten, and secures those habits of mental action 
which are absolutely indispensable to the loftiest 
achievements. Let no youth despise labor, and 
court the position of a luxurious life who hopes to 
walk the paths of glory. The muscles pine, and the 
strong sinews perish beneath the withering touch of 
inactivity; while the smith at his sooty forge can 
show a brawny arm and sinews like the steel he has 
wrought. The faculties become weak and the pur- 
pose wavering when pampered with inglorious ease, 
but the mind that is accustomed to bend steadily to 
its tasks will be ready to seize with firm grasp the 
object of its labors. 

It is common for us to think of Napoleon only as 
a warrior, as General Bonaparte. At the mention of 
his name the presence is a lofty form, with a sword 
flashing by its side, and a plume bending from its 



44 THEBOYHOOD. 

Bridge of Lodi. Helena. His tarnished sword. Once like other boys. 

lordly brow. We would as soon draw the picture of 
the lion without his claws and teeth, as Kapoleon 
without the trappings of war. Does he cross the 
Alps ? He is seated upon a black charger with fiery 
eyes and rearing form. Does he force the bridge of 
Lodi ? He is amid the thickest of the fight, his saber 
drips with blood, his enemies flee at his approach as 
from the genius of war. Is he banished to Elba? 
He must still be an emperor, and the commander of 
a military establishment. He was put in his grave 
at Helena in the habiliments of war, and when they 
brought him back to France, his tarnished sword 
surmounted his sarcophagus. 

We seem to forget that he ever had a boyhood ; 
that he was once an infant muling in his nurse's 
arms; that he began in the world with as little 
knowledge as any of us ; that he was obliged to re- 
sort to the same means for the attainment of it that 
we were all under the necessity of doing; that he 
encountered the same difQ.culties which perplex the 
mind of the youth who are to-day in our common 
schools. Because he was a giant in manhood we do 
not realize that he was in youth like other boys, sub- 
ject to their weaknesses, captivated by their pleas- 
ures, and joining with equal zest*' in their sports, and 
that the only difference was, that he from his earliest 
years had his faculties under the control of his own 



OF NAPOLEON. 45 

Moral tendency. Born in 1769. Koman blood. 

will, while they suffered theirs to be led by their de- 
sires and passions* 

Of the moral tendency of Kapoleon's life we have 
nothing to say. Whether his career was a blessing 
or a curse to the world, is not material to the subject 
which we are considering. There are those who 
have stigmatized him as a demon, and others with, 
equal zeal have praised his patriotism and his de- 
votion to the welfare of his country. Upon this 
question we are not called to pass judgment. We 
do not desire by any praises we may bestow on his 
talent and industry in youth, to encourage a taste 
for military glory, or unholy ambition. He was a 
noble pattern of a scholar, and as such we wish to 
present him as an example to those who would 
become eminent in learning. 

About five years previous to the opening of our 
Eevolution, in 1769, Kapoleon Bonaparte was born. 
His parents were Italian, and there consequently 
coursed in his veins some of the old Eoman blood. 
We discover in his character many of the Eoman 
traits. War was the profession of the Eoman peo- 
ple. Peace was to them an abnormal state. We 
see in his nature that boldness and energy, that iron 
will and unconquerable perseverance which so sig- 
nally marked his progenitors. 

He was born in the midst of a revolution. Cor- 



46 THE BOYHOOD 

Corslcnn revolution. Born amid convulsions. 

sica, tbough an insignificant island in the midst of 
the Mediterranean sea, happened at the time to be the 
theater of a bloody strife. The French had invaded 
the island to subdue the Corsicans and to make it a 
French province. It was the scene of wild disorder. 
Families were broken up and scattered. His mother 
was at the time following her husband in the camp. 
Her womanly and tender spirit was disturbed by all 
those passions which the dangers of conflict must 
arouse. With him she fled to the wild retreats of 
the mountains, and shared in the alternate hopes and 
fears which the varying fortunes of their party in- 
spired. But two months previous to his birth the 
Corsicans were beaten, and the dominion of the island 
passed into the hands of the French. Thus at the 
very dawn of existence Napoleon was nursed from a 
bosom convulsed by the wild disorders of the times 
— the privations of the camp — the dangers of the 
battle-field — and all the horrors of a most sanguin- 
ary struggle. He was born with the sounds of war 
ringing in his ears ; and though in infancy he could 
neither know nor appreciate the state of affairs, yet 
he doubtless inherited the feelings which at the time 
inspired the mother ; and the conversations and tales 
of heroic daring to which the conflict gave rise, were 
repeated to him and gave bias to his opening mind. 
We are told that he always listened with the greatest 



OFNAPOLEON-. 47 

Mother of Napoleon. Mother of "Washington. Scenery of Corsica. 

eagerness, in the most tender years, to the stories 
about Greneral Paoli, and to those heroic incidents 
with which the accounts of the revolution abounded. 
The mother, as she had shared in these scenes, was 
fond of relating them to her boy, and was thus un- 
consciously fostering in his young soul a taste for 
arms and conflict. The character and future con- 
duct of the man, is greatly affected by the influence 
which the mother exerts during the first few years of 
life. K the mother possesses a strong mind, with 
marked characteristics, we almost invariably find 
them impressed upon the spirit of the child, as the 
seal leaves its impress upon the wax. The mother of 
Washington was eminent for her moral virtues and 
her deep-toned piety, and the man, amid the tempta- 
tions of early life, the vicissitudes of the camp, and 
the cares of state, was steady to the teachings of his 
youth ; 

" Nor constant more the needle to the pole." 

Napoleon was true to his lessons ; and we find him 
in danger always brave, and in times of trouble al- 
ways heroic, pursuing with an eastern devotion the 
love of glory which his mother's lips had inspired. 

The island of Corsica is filled with scenery the 
most wild and romantic. In the midst of this, 
Napoleon passed his youth. To a mind cold and 



48 THEBOYHOOD 

Influence. Quiet retreat. Pale, thouglitful boy. 



unappreciative, dumb and unthinking, scenery can 
have few attractions, and over such a mind can 
exert but little influence. But a soul alive to the 
tones of nature's many-stringed harp, a soul that is 
stirred by the echoes of caverns, the voices of the 
winds, the roar of ocean and the stillness of the 
wood, is greatly moved by sublime scenery. Such a 
mind had Napoleon. From his earliest years he 
was reserved and contemplative, delighting in soli- 
tary walks and silent musings. A seat by the over- 
hangiug rock was more congenial to his tastes than 
youthful sports with a band of noisy companions. 
Alone he wandered upon the breast of the rugged 
mountain, and through the deep ravine ; he sought 
4;he foaming cataract and the rocky cavern ; he stood 
by the sea and mused on its lonely shore. There 
was, near his mother's house, a quiet retreat em- 
bowered in trees, in which he particularly delighted 
to pass his time. Here he spent many of the hours 
of boyhood, in silent meditation, or in reading, 
which at this early period was his chief delight. 
Even now, when a stranger visits the island, this 
spot is pointed out to him, and he can imagine the 
pale, thoughtful boy pursuing his meditations as of 
yore. 

Napoleon's first efforts at mental improvement 
were made in reading history. The aged and ven- 



OFNAPOLEON. 49 

Thrilling adventures. General Paoli. 

erable Paoli, the general-in-cliief of tlie Corsicans, 
whose fortunes the father of Napoleon had followed, 
was accustomed often to visit the family, and our 
young hero was never tired of hearing from the lips 
of him who had been a chief actor in the scene, the 
accounts of those thrilling adventures with which that 
fierce struggle abounded. In these early years his 
spirit was fired with enthusiasm for deeds of noble 
daring, and often his feelings became so much ex- 
cited that he would break forth in those short, im- 
passioned sentences, for which in after years his ad- 
dresses to his soldiers were remarkable. Such was 
the depth and penetration which was sometimes 
evinced by his remarks, that Paoli was filled with 
admiration at the sagacity which he displayed, and 
treated him more as a companion than as a child. 
He soon became familiar with all the history of the 
island, the claims of the contending parties, and the 
character of the leading men. Later in life, when he 
was about closing his studies at the military school 
at Paris, he prepared a history of Corsica, which he 
was on the point of publishing, when the opening 
scenes of the French Eevolution called on him to 
lay aside the pen and take the sword. Thus per- 
haps fortune made him a warrior, rather than an 
author. 

Akin to the stories which he heard of the Corsican 
3 



60 THEBOYHOOD 

Taste for reading. How acquired. Count Marboeuf, 

revolution, were the accounts of the fortunes of 
other nations which he found in history and biogra- 
phy. His passion for hearing stories from the lips 
of his friends, was transferred to searching for stories 
in the records of the past ; and thus early in life was 
established a taste for reading which was the founda- 
tion of his future fortunate career. His appetite was 
fed by his daily acquisitions. He devoured books, 
such was his eagerness to know their contents. The 
surprising amount of knowledge which he had early 
in life obtained, and the habits of reflection and stu- 
diousness which he thereby acquired, were the means, 
as we shall soon see, of his promotion. 

After the island had come into the hands of the 
French, governors were sent from France to preside 
over its political affairs. Among them was Count 
Marboeuf, who became intimate in the family of the 
Bonapartes. The thoughtful and studious air of 
Napoleon attracted his attention. His conversation 
seemed to be that of a person much beyond his 
years. He was surprised at the extent of his ac- 
quirements. He became convinced of the strong 
natural abilities and studious habits of this strange 
boy. He accordingly recommended him for promo- 
tion to one of the national schools. 

There were at this time twelve provincial military 
schools in France, which were annually supplied by 



OFNAPOLEON. 51 

School at Brienne. Striking lesson from his promotion. Golden chances. 

the most promising youth to be found in the king- 
dom. Through the recommendation of the gov- 
ernor, Napoleon was sent to the school at Brienne, 
near Paris. In this promotion of the Corsican boy, 
is found one of the most striking lessons that can be 
impressed upon the minds of the young. He was 
promoted because he deserved to be promoted ; be- 
cause by his own efforts and zeal he had prepared 
himself to be promoted ; because he had convinced 
his superiors about him whose attention he attracted, 
that he desired to know more, and that he had the 
resolution and the will to distinguish himself. The 
idea too often obtains, that some meet with eminent 
success because fortune favors them. But fortune 
generally favors those who work hardest and most 
merit success. The youth waits for some grand op- 
portunity, when, by one long stride, he will acquire 
knowledge and correct habits of thought. He lets 
the little golden chances for improvement which 
each day brings with it, pass by unimproved, until 
sluggishness and imbecility of mind, and careless 
habits utterly preclude the possibility of his ad- 
vancement. 

Not so with the youthful Napoleon. He com- 
menced a brilliant career for himself He did not 
wait for a rare opportunity, when some one should 
commence it for him. He was studious, he was at- 



52 THEBOYHOOD 

Tears on leaving his mother. Splendors of Paris. 1779. 

tentive, he was thoughtful. He began early to make 
acquirements in knowledge, and persevered with zeal 
and energy in the course upon which he had en- 
tered ; and when the time came he was not obliged 
to seek for the situation, but he was sought to fill it. 
Had his time been spent as most children spend 
theirs, in play, and sports, and frivolons amusements, 
with no thought, no aim, and no effort for improve- 
ment ; had he not displayed the knowledge and 
qualifications necessary for the place, he would not 
have been recommended to the military school at 
Brienne. 

The world is full of opportunities, bnt the trouble 
is we are not ready to embrace them. He was pre- 
pared for this which now presented itself, and entered 
at once upon the fulfillment of his destiny. Had the 
preparation been wanting, he might have lived and 
died in the island of Corsica, an obscure follower of 
some trade or profession, and the world never known 
of -Napoleon Bonaparte. 

It was at the age of ten, in 1779, that Kapoleon 
was transferred to the military school. He shed bit- 
ter tears on leaving his mother whom he tenderly 
loved, and separating from his brothers and sisters, 
and the home of his childhood. On his way he 
passed through Paris, and saw the splendors with 
which that city abounded • the monuments, the tern- 



OFNAPOLEON. 63 

British arms. American colonies. Lafayette. 

pies, tlie palaces, tlie parks and fountainSj and tlie 
throngs of people. Little did the poor boy then 
dream of the destiny which awaited him ; that the 
proud city would one day resound with his name ; 
that all that grandeur and magnificence would ere 
long be his ; that kings and emperors, the proudest 
in Europe, would eventually be suppliants at his 
feet. 

It was about the middle of our Eevolution that 
this event transpired. From the part which the 
French people took in the contest, and the lively 
interest which they ever felt in the defeat of the 
British arms, it is probable that Kapoleon now be- 
gan to acquaint himself with the events transpiring 
among the American colonies. The new position in 
which he was placed would naturally favor the ac- 
quisition of such general knowledge of events, as 
would best fit him for that career which Providence 
had marked out for him. About this time Lafay- 
ette returned from America, to arouse the French 
people and the French king in behalf of the feeble 
colonies in their almost hopeless struggle. This gal- 
lant young Frenchman everywhere inspired the live- 
liest interest. His youth, his devotion, his manly 
attainments, the romantic project of aiding the weak 
and feeble in the wilderness, in a far off land, ex- 
cited the warmest sympathies of his countrymen, and 



54 THEBOYHOOD 



Count de Maurepas. Students in the schools. 



wherever he appeared in public he was received with 
bursts of enthusiasm. The story of his adventures 
was repeated upon the stage. This feeling was not 
only felt by the people, but was shared by the king ; 
so much so that the old Count de Maurepas re- 
marked '^ that it was fortunate for the king that La- 
fayette did not take it into his head to strip Ver- 
sailles of its furniture to send to his dear Americans 
. — as his majesty would have been unable to refuse 
him." There is perhaps no class of people in a na- 
tion so quickly or so strongly moved by an incident 
like this, as the students in its schools. The slight- 
est variation in the rise and fall of public feeling is 
discernible in them. It is not unlikely that Napo- 
leon shared in this feeling, and was incited to re- 
newed exertions, that he might himself one day 
become a hero. 

The entrance of Napoleon to the school at Brienne 
was the beginning of a new life. He had been ac- 
customed to the quiet and seclusion of the island of 
Corsica, removed from the stir and commotion which 
increase as we approach the capital. None of the 
luxuries of wealth, or the refinements of courts, or 
the allurements to vice with which the more favored 
circles of society abound, had yet made his acquaint- 
ance. During that critical period in the life of every 
boy, he was secluded from the corrupting influences 



OFNAPOLEON. 55 

Companyof young Frenchmen. Bestsociety. Scorn of those young noblemen. 

of a great city, by whicli many a youth, ere lie has 
passed the age of ten, is hopelessly ruined. But in 
his new home every thing was changed. He was in 
close proximity to the metropolis of France, where 
beats the heart of the nation, and where the strong 
pulsations are quickly felt. He found himself sur- 
rounded by a company of young Frenchmen, the 
sons of noblemen and of the aristocracy of wealth. 
They had plenty of money, and all those habits of 
luxury and refinement which are cultivated in the 
best society of the most polite nation in Europe, 
Of these Napoleon could not boast. Money he had 
not, for his widowed mother had seven children be- 
side himself to support, and of refinement he had 
only that which his strong native sense on every oc- 
casion supplied. He was therefore looked upon by 
his companions with contempt. They had been ac- 
customed to consider eYerj person in any way de- 
pendent upon his own labors for support, as beneath 
them in rank, no matter how exalted the occupation 
in which he might be engaged. Hence they derided 
him for being the son of a Corsican lawyer. These 
reproaches, for which he could in no way be answer- 
able, stung him to the quick. The scorn of those 
young noblemen sunk deep into his heart. Friend- 
less and alone, far away from his home, with no one 
to bestow upon him sympathy and kindness, his only 



56 THE BOYHOOD 

Their equal. Heart of youth. 

alternative was to digest in silence their contempt. 
But the spirit whicli they displayed taught him 
to hate every pretension to superiority founded on 
wealth or birth. He felt himself their equal in 
every mental and moral gift, and he could perceive 
no ground for the distinction which they saw fit to 
make in the circumstance that they had inherited 
wealth and he had not. The reflections which this 
treatment gave rise to were undoubtedly the basis 
of those broad republican principles which he after- 
wards asserted. The sense of injustice and oppres- 
sion is never so strong and deep-seated as in youth. 
The heart has not then been wrung by cares, and 
troubles, and hopes crushed. It expects every thing 
to conform to its intuitive sense of justice, and when 
it perceives the right trampled out by the wrong, 
the shock is more keenly felt than in after years, 
when the feelings have become callous by oft re- 
peated agonies and injuries. It was an important 
lesson, and if he had learned no other while at this 
school he would not have left home and friends, and 
endured the scorn of his associates in vain. Thus 
early in life he imbibed and cherished that demo- 
cratic doctrine, that there can be no claims to su- 
periority not founded on merit. It was upon this 
principle, that in after years he made all those 
distinctions in his army, from the lowest subaltern, 



OFNAPOLEON. 57 

Italian his vernacular. History and mathematics. Eose to front rank. 

to him who wore the cross of the Legion of 
Honor. 

Napoleon was of Italian parentage, and Italian 
was his vernacular tongue. He could scarcely speak 
a word of French when he entered the school. On 
this account he was more isolated than he would 
otherwise have been. But this circumstance may 
have been fortunate for him. He was looked upon 
as a plebeian and a foreigner, and he was of necessity 
driven to seek for society and amusement in books. 
Thus, at the outset of his career as a scholar, he was 
forced to adopt studious habits. Had he been re- 
ceived with open arms by his companions, and been 
petted as a brilliant young fellow, and formed loose 
and irregular habits, which are the almost inevitable 
result of excessive convivial entertainment, he might 
have come out a very ordinary man. 

The course of studies in these military schools em- 
braced an extensive range, including the languages 
and the abstract sciences. But the branches which 
received most special attention were history and the 
mathematics. In these Napoleon particularly ex- 
celled. By his indefatigable energy and studiousness 
he immediately rose to the front rank in his class, 
and at once secured for himself the reputation of a 
scholar among his teachers and his companions. He 

was indeed the plebeian and the foreigner ; but he 
3* 



58 THEBOYHOOD 

The plebeian. Use of inathemalics to the military man. 

soon taught tbose about hinij that in mental powers 
and accomplishments, the plebeian and the foreigner 
was far superior to them all, and that so far from 
poverty and obscurity being an impediment to men- 
tal development, it is in reality one of the most 
favoring circumstances, and that no one can become 
a scholar till he entertains the spirit which it induces. 
Napoleon had a particular fondness for the mathe- 
matics. In this branch he excelled. And this is per- 
haps of all others most needful to the military man. 
The habits of mind which it cultivates, the precision 
of thought which is required in conducting the pro- 
cesses, the practice of confining the deductions to 
the legitimate results of our reasoning, the habit of 
admitting only known elements as the basis, the 
foundation on which we build the superstructure, is 
of infinite value in the training of a military com- 
mander. Those elements of mind which are required 
in conducting the various processes of the demon- 
stration of a proposition in the mathematics, are the 
same as those employed in conducting a campaign. 
The elements of the reasoning alone differ. In the 
one case, they are first truths and the deductions 
therefrom. In the other, they are the varying facts 
and probabilities of the case, wherein the conclu- 
sions can never be more certain than the elements on 
which they are based. In that department of math- 



OFNAPOLEON. 59 

Fondness for history. Plutarch's Lives. Heroic poetry. Homer. 

ematics whicli embraces mechanics, civil engineering, 
and gunnery, the military man derives that practical 
knowledge which serves him in times of difficulty. 
Napoleon became a perfect master of these branches, 
and was never obliged to depend upon the knowl- 
edge of his subordinates in forming his great plans, 
for his own acquirements were superior to the ex- 
perts of the army. 

He delighted also in the study of history. The 
fabulous accounts of the origin of the nations re- 
corded in profane history, and the veritable accounts 
of the daring spirits who figured in those early times, 
possessed for him indescribable charms. Plutarch's 
Lives were his delight. In reading these he was in- 
troduced to the choicest spirits that have ever lived, 
who acted their parts in the sunniest days of civili- 
zation, and who contributed, by their wisdom and 
bravery, to perpetuate the glory and renown of their 
respective nations. He was fond of heroic poetry, 
and read with the utmost avidity the great masters 
of the art. Even at this early age he wrote to his 
mother, " With my sword by my side and Homer in 
my pocket, I hope to carve my way through the 
world." The conduct of heroes and the fabled feats 
of gods, as they w ere conceived in the glowing imag- 
inations of the poets, nursed in his bosom the spirit 
for lofty achievement. The enthusiasm with which 



60 THEBOYHOOD 

Eemark of Count Paoli. Too morose for a Frenchman. 

he was inspired by his reading was manifest in all 
his thoughts and conversation. '• Oh Napoleon," 
exclaimed the old Count Paoli, " you do not at all 
resemble the moderns. You belong only to the 
heroes of Plutarch." 

He was at this period of his boyhood intensely 
studious. He was never eminent for his social quali- 
ties, though he was fond of the society of those who 
could converse on topics that interested him. He 
was always pointed and abrupt, and impatient with 
those who could not be equally so. On this account 
his companions never regarded him as a favorite, 
though his commanding abilities soon inspired re- 
spect. He Avas looked upon as too morose and 
secluded in disposition for a Frenchman. His habits 
of study contributed to this result. The usual boyish 
sports and amusements at this period had no attrac- 
tions for him. He was rarely found upon the play 
ground. He preferred to spend his noon and even- 
ing hours in the library. The games of his com- 
panions could hardly rival the sports of gods and 
heroes of which he could there read, or the bloody 
encounters of contending hosts in their strife for vic- 
tory, which he pursued with breathless interest. He 
not only mastered with surprising alacrity all the 
studies of his class, but he devoured with eagerness 
every thing upon history, politics and the practical 



OFNAPOLEON. 61 

Extent of liis information. Studious habits confirmed. 

arts that came in his way. He was thus enabled to 
commence life with the experience of all past ages 
at his command. The remembrance of failures and 
successes in other times, was the light bj which his 
feet were guided in pursuing the uncertain paths to 
empire. 

His studiousness and his laborious youth, bore 
their proper fruits. His habits became confirmed, 
and when in after years his position required of him 
intense devotion to business, it was easy and natural 
for him to apply himself, and accomplish almost 
superhuman labors. The power which he acquired 
of the undivided application of all his faculties to any 
subject, gave him the ability to make every question 
simple, and to decide with promptness in the most 
critical circumstances. All his vast energies of mind 
were by these means marshaled into the most com- 
plete subjection to his will, and like the battalions 
of his army they were under entire control. The 
acquisitions which he made during his school days 
must have been very great; for his career in the 
field commenced when he had scarcely arrived at 
the age of manhood, and the ardor with which he 
pursued it left little time in later years for study ; 
and in whatever position he was placed he evinced 
unbounded knowledge. When he was made gen- 
eral-in-chief of the army, his associate consuls be- 



62 THEBOYHOOD 

Child the father of the man. Incident of Dr. Franklin. Little brass cannon. 



lieved that Ipe would be satisfied with the manage- 
ment of affairs in the field. But at their first meet- 
ing he convinced them that he could and would 
do every thing himself. Education, government, 
finance, were as familiar to him as the tactics of 
a campaign. 

The remark has often been repeated that the child 
is father of the man. Those traits of character which 
we notice in the youth, are usually the ones which 
mark the conduct of mature years. It is related that 
Dr. FranklJh, when a small boy and was assisting his 
father to salt a barrel of meat, asked him, when it 
was finished, if he could not ask a blessing on the 
whole barrel at once, and thus save the time of 
doing it every meal at the table. The mind that in 
tender years could devise so ingenious a plan for econ- 
omizing time, is the same that in maturity taught 
us as a people the practice of economy, and has 
stamped it upon ns as a national peculiarity. One 
of the playthings of Napoleon, when a child, was 
a little brass cannon weighing about thirty pounds, 
whose report probably sounded louder in his boy- 
ish ears than the whole park of heavy ordnance 
that played upon the field of Waterloo. We can 
fancy the great plans of battle and conquest which 
he executed with that single little cannon. His 
late biographer, Mr. Abbott, relates an incident 



OFNAPOLEON. 6S 

Incident related by Abbott. Snow fortification. Napoleon commands. 

that occurred while at the military school which 
marks his boyish propensities. 

** The winter of 1774," says he, ^' was one of un- 
usual severity. Large quantities of snow fell, which 
so completely blocked up the walks that the stu- 
dents at Brienne could find but little amusement 
without doors. Napoleon proposed that to beguile 
the weary hours, they should erect an extensive for- 
tification of snow, with intrenchments and bastions, 
parapets, ravelins, and horn works. He had stud- 
ied the science of fortification with the utmost dili- 
gence, and, under his superintendence, the works 
were conceived and executed according to the strict- 
est rules of art. The power of his mind now dis- 
played itself. ISTo one thought of questioning the 
authority of Napoleon. He planned and directed, 
while a hundred busy hands, with unquestioning 
alacrity, obeyed his will. The works rapidly rose, 
and in such perfection of science as to attract crowds 
of the inhabitants of Brienne for their inspection. 
Napoleon divided the school into two armies, one 
being intrusted with the defense of the works, while 
the other composed the host of the besiegers. He 
took upon himself the command of both bodies, now 
heading the besiegers in the desperate assault, and 
now animating the besieged to an equally vigorous 
defense. For several weeks this mimic warfare con- 



64 THEBOYHOOD 

Instance of discipline. Kecord of the Minister of "War. 

tiDued, during' which time many severe Avounds were 
received on both sides. In the heat of the battle 
when the bullets of snow were flying thick and fast, 
one of the subordinate ofl&cers, venturing to disobey 
the commands of his general, Napoleon felled him 
to the earth, inflicting a wound which left a scar for 
life." 

Napoleon remained five years at Brienne. It was 
the custom to send annually from the twelve pro- 
vincial schools, three of the best scholars in each, to 
the military school at Paris. Napoleon was one of 
the three, from his school, selected for that purpose. 
From the fact that at the age of fifteen, the earliest 
age at which any are admitted to this, the highest 
military school of the nation, it is conclusive evi- 
dence of his great proficiency as a scholar. The selec- 
tion of these candidates was made after a thorough 
examination. The following entry in the minutes 
of the examiners may be found in the records of the 
Minister of War: — "State of the king's scholars eli- 
gible to enter into service, or to pass to the school 
at Paris : Monsieur de Bonaparte (Napoleon) born 
15th August, 1769 ; in height five feet six and a 
half inches ; has finished his fourth season ; of a 
good constitution, health excellent, character mild, 
honest, and grateful ; conduct exemplary ; has al- 
ways distinguished himself by application to the 



OF NAPOLEON. 65 

Promoted to the school at Paris. Luxury. 

mathematics ; understands history and geography 
tolerably well ; is indifferently skilled in merely 
ornamental studies, and in Latin, in which he has 
only finished his fourth course ; would make an 
excellent sailor ; deserves to be passed to the school 
at Paris." 

At the early age of fifteen the plebeian and the 
foreigner had won his >vay to the highest military 
school of France. This school had been founded 
expressly for the sons of the nobility. It was fur- 
nished with every appliance for the ease and luxury 
of the young noblemen who were members of the 
institution. "Each of the three hundred young 
men assembled in this school had a servant to 
groom his horse, to polish his weapons, to brush 
his boots and to perform all other necessary menial 
services. The cadet reposed on a luxurious bed, 
and was fed with sumptuous viands." Such refine- 
ment as this was by no means congenial to the spirit 
and habits of JSTapoleon. Had they been offered 
him earlier in life, before his principles had become 
fixed by reading' and meditation, and before those 
habits had become confirmed by necessity, he might 
have been won by them. But it was now too late. 
He regarded such luxury and effeminacy in a place 
where young men were to be trained for one of the 
most arduous and exposed professions known among 



66 T H E B O Y H O O D 

Spartan habits. Difficult problem. Napoleon solves it. That iron will. 

men, in wbicli hardsliips and privations are unceas- 
ingly encountered, as a shame and a disgrace to the 
nation. He yielded to none of the blandishments 
that were thrown about him, but established the 
same Spartan habits which he practiced in his more 
humble position at Brienne. He rose early and re- 
tired late. His maps, and charts, and scientific 
books were constantly before him. Here, as for- 
merly, the mathematics were his favorite studies. 
" On one occasion, a mathematical problem of great 
difficulty having been proposed to the class, Ka- 
poleon in order to solve it secluded himself in his 
room seventy-two hours; and he solved the prob- 
lem." I mention this circumstance, to illustrate the 
resolution and the will which characterized him as a 
scholar. This same unflinching, unwavering deter- 
mination which he manifested in conquering difficult 
problems in the mathematics, characterized his effi^rts 
in solving many a knotty problem in his life's career. 
Many a day of darkness and difficulty dawned upon 
him, whose shadows were dispelled by that iron will. 
While at this school he was introduced to some of 
the best society in Paris. The advantages which he 
derived from this source were very great. The stu- 
dent, ambitious of success, faithful to his tasks, deaf 
to the claims of society, shut up in his cell, and shut 
out from the world, is apt to neglect that very im- 



O F X A P O L E O N . 67 

Society. Habits of the student. Vital questions. Dancing and cards. His bearing. 

portant part of Lis training which can only be ac- 
quired by mingling in the company of the educated 
and refined. The habit of managing a conversation 
with taste and ability, a becoming address, and ease 
and unaffected suavity of manners, are among the 
most important parts of an education, and no young 
man should ever make any claims to culture till he 
has acquired these. Kapoleon was fond of elegant 
society, though he felt that he could only spend a 
limited portion of his time in it. He delighted in 
the company of the learned who were capable of 
conversing upon those vital questions which are felt 
in a nation's pulse, but he had no taste for dancing 
and cards, and the so called fashionable amusements. 
He believed that these were proper for those persons 
whose minds were not big enough to find entertain- 
ment in any thing higher, but for him they had no 
interest. In the circles in which he moved, he began 
to make his influence felt. Whoever came in con- 
tact with him, and saw the flash of his eye, and felt 
the fiery energy of his bearing, and heard the opin- 
ions which he had to advance upon any subject that 
chanced to be broached, never failed to perceive the 
superiority of his mind, and the immense extent of 
his attainments.* 

* One evening, in the year 1790, there was a very brilhant party 
in the drawing-rooms of M. Neckar, the celebrated £nancier. His en- 



68 THEBOYHOOD 

Ahbe Eaynal. Party at M. Neckar's, Tersons of distinction. 

The Abbe Eaynal, one of the greatest philoso- 
pbers of the age, was among the first to perceive and 
recognize the mature reflections and great acquire- 

tertainraents, embellished by the presence, as the presiding genius, of 
his distinguished daughter, Madame de Stael, were brilliant in the 
extreme, assembling all the noted gentlemen and ladies in the metrop- 
ohs. On the occasion to which we refer, the magnificent saloon waa 
filled with men who had attained the highest eminence in hterature 
and science, or who, in those troubled times, had ascended to posts of 
honor and influence in the state. Mirabeau was there, with his lofty 
brow and thunder tones, proud of his very ugliness. Talleyrand moved 
majestically through the halls, conspicuous for his gigantic proportions 
and courtly bearing. Lafayette, rendered glorious as the friend of 
Washington, and his companion in arms, had gathered around him a 
group of congenial spirits. In the embrasure of a window sat Mad- 
ame de Stael. By the brilliancy of her conversational powers she had 
attracted to her side St, Just, who afterwards obtained such sanguinary 
notoriety ; Malesherbes, the eloquent and intrepid advocate of royalty ; 
Lalande, the venerable astronomer ; Marmontel and Lagrange, illus- 
trious mathematicians, and others whose fame was circulating through 
Europe. In one corner stood the celebrated ALfieri, reciting with 
almost maniacal gesticulation his own poetry to a group of ladies. 
The grave and philosophical Neckar was the center of another group 
of care-worn statesmen, discussing the rising perils of the times. It 
was an assemblage of all which Paris could afibrd of brilliance in rank, 
talent, or station. About the middle of the evening, Josephine, the 
beautiful, but then neglected wife of M. Beauharnais, was announced, 
accompanied by her little son Eugene. Madame de Genelis soon 
made her appearance, attended by the brother of the king ; and, con- 
scious of her intellectual dignity, floated through that sea of brilliance 
recognized wherever she approached by the abundance of perfumery 
which her dress exhaled. Madame Campan, the friend and companion 
of Marie Antoinette, and other ladies and gentlemen of the court, 
were introduced, and the party now consisted of a truly remarkable 



i 



O F NAPOLE ON. 



Music. Enti-ance of Napoleon. 

ments of JSTapoleon ; and thougli but a boy the Abbe 
delighted in Lis company, and often invited bim to 
his table, where he met many of the leading literary 

assemblage of distinguished men and women. Parisian gayety seemed 
to banish all thoughts of the troubles of the times, and the hours were 
surrendered to unrestrained hilarity. Servants were ghding through 
the throng, bearing a profusion of refreshments, consisting of delica- 
cies gathered from all quarters of the globe. 

As the hour of midnight approached, there was a lull in the buzz 
of conversation, and the guests gathered in silent groups to listen to a 
musical entertainment. Jifadame de Stael took her seat at the piano, 
while Josephine prepared to accompany her with the harp. They 
both were performers of singular excellence, and the whole assembly 
was hushed in expectation. Just as they had commenced the first 
notes of a charming duet, the door of the saloon was thrown open, 
and two new guests entered the apartment. The one was an elderly 
gentleman of very venerable aspect and dressed in the extreme of 
simplicity. The other was a young man, very small, pale, and slender. 
The elderly gentleman was immediately recognized by all as the Abbe 
Raynal, one of the most distinguished philosophers of France; but no 
one knew the pale, slender, fragile youth who accompanied him. 
They both, that they might not interrupt the music, silently took seats 
near the door. As soon as the performance was ended, and the ladies 
had received those compliments which their skiU and taste elicited, the 
Abbe approached Madame de Stael, accompanied by his young pro- 
tege, and introduced him as Monsieur Xapoleon Bonaparte. Bona- 
parte ! .that name which has since filled the world, was then plebeian 
and unknown, and upon its utterance many of the proud aristocrats 
in that assembly shrugged their shoulders, and turned contemptuously 
away to their conversation and amusement. Madame de Stael had an 
almost instinctive perception of the presence of genius. Her attention 
was instantly arrested by the few remarks with which Napoleon ad- 
dressed her. They were soon engaged in very animated conversation. 
Josephine and several other ladies joined them. The gwup grew 



70 THE BOYHOOD 

Group about him. Remark of Biahop of Autun. Answer of Napoleon. 

men of the metropolis. This afforded Mm a rare 
opportunity for improvement, and one to which boys 
of his affe are not often admitted. He heard the 



larger and larger as the gentlemen began to gather round the increas- 
ing circle. " Who is that young man who thus suddenly has gathered 
such a group about him ?" the proud Alfieri condescended to ask of 
the Abbe Raynal. "He is," replied the Abbe, " a protege of mine, 
and a young man of very extraordinary talent. He is very industri- 
ous, well read, and has made remarkable attainments in history, math- 
ematics, and all military science." Mirabeau came stalking across the 
room, lured by curiosity to see what could be the source of the general 
attraction. " Come here 1 come here !" said Madame de Stael with a 
smile, and in an undertone. " We have found a little great man. I 
will introduce bim to you, for I know you are fond of men of genius." 
Mirabeau very graciously shook hands with Napoleon and entered into 
conversation with the untitled young man without assuming any airs 
of superiority. A group of distinguished men now gathered about 
them, and the conversation became in some degree general. The 
Bishop of Autun commended Fox and Sheridan for having asserted 
that the French army, by refusing to obey the orders of their superiors 
to fire upon the populace, had set a glorious example to all the armies 
of Europe ; because, by so doing, they had shown that men by be- 
coming soldiers did not cease to be citizens. 

" Excuse me, my lord," exclaimed Napoleon, in tones of earnestness 
that arrested general attention, " if I venture to interrupt you ; but as 
I am an ofBcer I must claim the privilege of expressing my sentiments. 
It is true that I am very young, and it may appear presumptuous ui 
me to address so many distinguished men ; but during the last three 
years I have paid intense attention to our political troubles. I see 
with sorrow the state of our country ; I will incur censure rather than 
pass unnoticed principles which are not only unsound, but which are 
subversive of all government. As much as any one I desire to see all 
abuses, antiquated privileges, and usurped rights annulled. Nay 1 as 
I am at the commencement of my career, it will be my best poUcy, as 



OFNAPOLEON. 71 

Uneasiness of Neckar and Lafayette. Mirabeaii and Talleyrand. 

best conversation which the capital afforded. He 
made the personal acquaintance of those men who 
were to guide the thought of the nation, and whose 



well as my duty, to support the progress of popular institutions, and 
to promote reform in every branch of the pubHc administration. But 
as in the last twelve months I have witnessed repeated alarming pop- 
ular disturbances, and have seen our best men divided into factions 
which threaten to be irreconcilable, I sincerely believe that now, more 
than ever, a strict discipline in the army is absolutely necessary for the 
safety of our constitutional government, and for the maintenance of 
order. Nay ! if our troops are not compelled unhesitatmgly to obey 
the commands of the executive, we shall be exposed to the blhid fury 
of democratic passions, which will render France the most miserable 
country on the globe. The ministry may be assured that, if the daily 
increasing arrogance of the Parisian mob is not repressed by a strong 
arm, and social order rigidly maintained, we shall see not only this 
capital, but every other city in France thrown into a state of inde- 
scribable anarchy, while the real friends of liberty, the enlightened 
patriots, now working for the best good of our country, will sink be- 
neath a set of demagogues, who, with louder outcries for freedom on 
their tongues, will be, in reality, but a horde of savages worse than 
the Xeros of old." 

These emphatic sentences, uttered by Napoleon with an air of au- 
thority which seemed natural to the youthful speaker, caused a pro- 
found sensation. For a moment there was a perfect silence in the 
group, and every eye was riveted on the pale and marble cheek of 
Napoleon. Neckar and Lafayette listened with evident uneasiness 
to his bold and weighty sentiments as if conscious of the perils which 
his words so forcibly portrayed. Mirabeau nodded once or twice sig- 
nificantly to Talleyrand, seeming thus to say, " That is exactly the 
truth." Some turned upon their heels, exasperated at this fearless 
avowal of hostility to democratic progress. Alfieri, one of the proud- 
est of aristocrats, could hardly restrain his delight, and gazed with 
amazement upon the intrepid young man. " Condorcet," says an eye- 



72 THEBOYHOOD 



One year at Paris. Examined by La Place. 



literary prodnctions " future generations will not wil- 
lingly let die." He became familiar with the correct 
opinions of the actors in the scenes in that great 
drama which had already begun. 

Napoleon remained but one year in the military 
school at Paris. As the result of his first examina- 
tion he was recommended for promotion, and was 
consequently appointed an oficer in the French 
army at the early age of sixteen. The mathemati- 
cal section of the examination was conducted by La 
Place, the .author of the Mecanique Celeste. To 
come out successful before such an examiner, was 
indeed no ordinary honor. In history, Monsieur 
Karruglion, after listening with ~ admiration to his 
answers, and the elucidations which he gave of the 
various topics which were broached, wrote in the 



witness, " nearly made me cry out by the squeeze which he gave my 
hand at every sentence uttered by the pale, slender, youthful speaker." 
The young Napoleon, then but twenty-one years of age, thus suddenly 
became the most prominent individual in that whole assembly. Where- 
ever he moved, many eyes followed him. He had none of the airs 
of a man of fashion. He made no attempts at displays of gallantry. 
A peaceful melancholy seemed to overshadow him, as, with an ab- 
stracted air, he passed through the glittering throng, without being in 
the slightest degree dazzled by its brilliance. The good old Abbe 
Raynal appeared quite enraptured in witnessing this triumph of his 
young protege. — AbhoWs Napoleon, vol. i., page 36. — Narrative com- 
municated to Chambers^ Edinburg Journal hv an Italian gentleman who 
was present at the interview at M. NecJcar^s. 



OFNAPOLEON.. 73 

Bemark of M. Karruglion. Lieutenant in tlie army. Ambition not satisfied. 

records after tlie entry of Napoleon's name, " A Cor- 
sican by character and by birth. This young man 
will distinguish himself in the world if fortune fa- 
vors." He might have written with greater pro- 
priety, " This young man will distinguish himself 
whether fortune favors or not." He had thus far in 
life been successful at every point, and he had not 
shared very bountifully in fortune's favors, and in 
after years he never left any thing for fortune to do 
for him. That qualifying phrase might have been 
very appropriately placed after the names of some 
young men, but it stands with an ill grace after the 
signature of Napoleon Bonaparte. 

At this point closes the boyhood of Napoleon. 
He is no longer a scholar of fortune, fighting his way 
up from obscurity, but a lieutenant in that army 
of Frenchmen whose glory has sounded through the 
world. He now lays aside the humble garb of the 
student, and assumes the military costume of an ofl&- 
cer, the heavy boots, the cocked hat, the buttoned 
coat and epaulettes. There was much in the position 
to which Napoleon had now attained to flatter the 
pride and satisfy the ambition of a youth of seven- 
teen, and it is feared that there are few, who would 
not have considered their education complete, that 
the object of their strife was now attained, and that 

they might give themselves up to the ease and enjoy- 

4 



74 THEBOYHOOD 

Studious habits continued. Lesson taught. 

ment wliicli their position as officers would yield. 
But this honor was far from satisfying the ambition 
of Napoleon. His habits of study had been labo- 
rious and austere, he labored with indefatigable zeal, 
he had made vast acquirements, he was petted and 
flattered, and his company was sought by some of 
the first literary men in the world. But there was 
yet more that he wished to learn, and when he was 
ordered with his regiment to Lyons, no sooner were 
the troops quartered, than he sought out a room 
where he would be secure from interruption, and 
renewed those habits of laborious study which he 
had been accustomed to while at school. Instead of 
parading the streets to show off his plume and his 
epaulettes to the young and the admiring, he bent 
as steadily to his tasks as he had done previous to 
his promotion. 

The education of Kapoleon teaches the world one 
useful lesson, one which our youth especially need 
to learn. We are apt in pursuing a course of study 
to dally and procrastinate. Some one has said that 
" man is naturally indolent, as lazy as he can be." 
At no time in life do we yield so readily to ease as 
during the period of mental and physical growth, 
and this is the time usually allotted to study. Tasks 
to be wrought out by brain work, look formidable, 
and we often shrink from them on very slight pre- 



OFNAPOLEON. 75 

Reflections. Influences against his success. 

texts. Not so with JSTapoleon. He shrunk from no 
tasks, he left no duty undone, and he has shown the 
world the virtue of working while the day lasts. 
Had Kapoleon known his destiny from the outset, 
he could not have labored more faithfully in prepa- 
ration for its accomplishment. This example speaks 
to every one who hopes to be a leader in the world, 
'' Go and do thou likewise." 

In concluding this survey of the boyhood of Na- 
poleon, there are some reflections which naturally 
flow from the subject that may be of interest to us 
as teachers who have much yet to learn, and whose 
business it is to direct the education of others. If 
the mariner on an unknown sea can pick up the 
chart of a fellow navigator who sailed those seas 
before him, he feels a degree of assurance that he 
can go forward in his voyage in safety. The educa- 
tion of Napoleon was a success. It is not often that 
we know the history of one so triumphant. There 
are some important lessons to be drawn from it. 

From the beginning the probabilities of success 
were all against him. He was a poor boy, an or- 
phan, and a foreigner, unable to speak the French 
language, and without influential friends to advocate 
his cause. There were only twelve of the military 
schools in a population of thirty millions. The num- 
ber of aoplicants would naturally be very great, and 



76 THEBOYHOOD 

Triumphs. Eeview of his success. Eeason for it. 

tlie sons of tte rich and powerful would be most 
likely to succed in obtaining the place. The same 
motives and influences would operate against his 
advancement to the school at Paris, where the diffi- 
culties would be still greater on account of the aris- 
tocratic and exclusive style in which it was estab- 
lished. But notwithstanding the apparent obstacles 
that stood in his way, he invariably triumphed over 
them, and the merit of his triumphs is due to him- 
self. He won his way from one position to another 
because he had first deserved the promotions. He 
was sent from the humble island of Corsica to the 
school at Brienne, because the culture he had already 
acquired attracted the attention of the governor and 
convinced him that the boy would honor the place. 
Again, he is selected as one of the three from among 
all his associates for a place in the highest school at 
Paris ; and here he is promoted because of his great 
proficiency in his studies, and the unusual maturity 
of his mind. When we become familiar with his 
history during those five years, we feel satisfied that 
if the selection were made according to merit, the 
choice wisely fell upon Napoleon. At the age of 
fifteen, that very critical period in the life of youth, 
when most boys are " sowing their wild oats," we find 
him the companion of philosophers and sages. With- 
out any other influence to recommend him or secure 



OFNAPOLEON. 77 

Early proficiency. Faithful to duty. 

an introduction to tlie company of the learned, than 
that which his own intelligence had created for him, 
he wins his way to the best of French society. A 
foreigner and of obscure birth though he be, and in 
the midst of the nobility who are ever inclined to 
look upon those beneath them with contempt, he is 
welcomed with open hands to their circles, because 
his good sense and great learning made him the light 
and ornament of any society which he chose to grace. 
And finally, at an age w^hen most young men are 
thinking about beginning their education, he is ex- 
amined by some of the first scholars that the world 
has ever produced, is pronounced a proficient, and 
is recommended for appointment as an officer in 
the army. We feel satisfied, when we read this ac- 
count, that there was no favoritism, or under current 
influence to which he owed his advancement, — for 
the poor boy had no means of securing such inter- 
ests in his .behalf, — but that he received his just 
deserts. 

In this simple recital of the fortunes of this ob- 
scure boy, we witness the happy issue of a faithful 
discharge of duty. It is the most complete and 
triumphant illustration of the success which follow^s 
unremitting studiousness that we have on record. 
He is noted for being a bright boy, because he has 
improved the feeble talents of childhood, and has got 



78 THEBOTHOOD 

Law of toil and recompense. Veracity vindicated in scholarship. 

a little more, knowledge than other boys of his age. 
He moves among his fellow students, inspiring their 
veneration for him as a prodigy of learning, because 
he toiled when they slept, and he meditated when 
they squandered time. He acquired the respect and 
friendship of his superiors in knowledge and years, 
because he had diligently pursued those researches 
in which well cultivated minds delight. And those 
habits of study and toil which we see rewarded 
with success in the boyhood of Napoleon, are the 
habits that will be rewarded with success in any boy 
of fair ability. There is no well directed exertion 
which does not sooner or later bear its proper fruits. 
This law of toil and recompense holds good in the 
physical world, in business, but especially is its 
veracity vindicated in the history of distinguished 
scholarship. There is no man of ordinary mental 
endowments, who can possibly fail of becoming 
eminent as a scholar, if he puts forth eminent ex- 
ertions. 

"We hear much about the genius of Napoleou, and 
we are treated to flaming dissertations on this unde- 
termined specimen of the human species, which nat- 
uralists are unable to classify, whose creation was 
looked upon as a miracle of creative power, and 
which was especially demanded by the French na- 
tion, as though he had come upon this earth, 



OFNAPOLEON. 79 

Genius of Napoleon. Power of endurance. Council of finance. 

" Summoned direct from chaos and old night, 
By Jove's power fledged, and ready for the flight." 

But when we become familiar witli his boyhood, the 
genius of Napoleon ceases to be a mystery. We 
wonder from whence his power and his success, but 
the wonder is how the result could have been other- 
wise. The fact about the genius of Napoleon is 
simply this : he possessed by nature good common 
sense, an unusual degree of physical and mental en- 
durance, and an iDsatiable ambition. And only this. 
He seemed to think"^ and never tire, to laborf and 



* It was nearly midnight when Napoleon, accompanied by Jose- 
phine, entered the darkened streets of Paris on his return from Vienna. 
He drove directly to the Tuilleries, and ascended the stairs, with hasty 
strides, to his cabinet. Without undressing, or even throwing him- 
self upon a couch for a moment of repose, he sent for the Minister of 
Finance. The whole of the remainder of the night was passed in a 
rigid examination of the state of the bank of France. The eagle eye 
of the emperor immediately penetrated the labyrinth of confusion in 
which its concerns were involved. The next day at eleven o'clock the 
whole Council of Finance was assembled. Napoleon kept them inces- 
santly occupied during an uninterrupted session of nine hours. Thus 
energetically, without allowing himself a moment for repose, he entered 
upon a series of labors unparalleled in the history of mankind. — Ab- 
loWs Napoleon, vol. i., page 487. 

f The miseries of his progress in Egypt were extreme. The air is 
crowded with pestiferous insects; the glare of the sand weakens 
most men's eyes, and blinds many ; water is scarce and bad ; and the 
country has been swept clean of man, beast, and vegetable. Under 
this torture oven the gallant spirits of such men as Murat and Lannes 
could not sustain themselves ; they trod their cockades in the sand. 



80 THEBOYHOOD 

Progress in Egypt. Best entitled to his position. 

never be weary. These elements of cliaracter se- 
cured him success in every step of his career, from 
early boyhood to the last of his great deeds. There 
is no mystery about his wonderful fortune ; for there 
is not a position in the whole course of his life, to 
which, if we become acquainted with, the steps that 
led him to it, we must not acknowledge he was 
above all others the best entitled. His knowledge, 
his energy, and his perseverance so far excelled those 
who might be considered to come in competition with 
him, that the scale at once turns in favor of Napo- 
leon, and there is no propriety in questioning the 
decision. 

Of the moral and religious training of Napoleon, 
we know but little. Indeed I am inclined to the 
opinion that he never had much. "We know that 
he had a kind mother, who cherished with mascu- 
line austerity, probity, and honor, and virtue. " Left 



The common soldiers asked with angry murmurs if it was here the 
general designed to give them their seven acres ? He alone was su- 
perior to all evils. Such was the happy temperament of his frame 
that while others, after having rid themselves of their usual dress, were 
still suffused in perpetual floods of perspiration, and the hardiest found 
it necessary to give two or three hours every mid-day to sleep, Napo- 
leon altered nothing ; wore his uniform buttoned up as at Paris ; never 
showed one bead of sweat on his brow, nor thought of repose except 
to lie down in his cloak the last at night and start up the first in the 
morning. — Lockharfs Life of Napoleon, vol. i., page 116. 



OFNAPOLEON. 81 

France had no religion. The guillotine. 

without a guide, without support," says Napoleoa, 
" my mother was obliged to take the direction of 
affairs upon herself. But the task was not above 
her strength. She mauaged every thing, provided 
for every thing, with a prudence which could neither 
have been expected from her sex nor from her age. 
Ah, what a woman ! Where shall we look for her 
equal ? She watched over us with a solicitude un- 
exampled. Every low sentiment, every ungenerous 
affectioD, was discouraged and discarded. She suf- 
fered nothing but that which was grand and elevated 
to take root in our youthful understandings. She ab- 
horred falsehood, and would not tolerate the slightest 
acts of disobedience. None of our faults were over- 
looked. Losses, privations, fatigue, had no effect 
upon her. She had the energy of a man combined 
with the gentleness and delicacy of a woman." Dur- 
ing the time that he was at the military schools, 
France had no religion. The French people Avor- 
shiped at the shrine of base Indulgence under the 
name of Liberty. The Sabbath was abolished and 
the Bible burned, and every tenth day was appointed 
by the government as a day of rest. The guillotine 
was in active operation, and the blood of her best 
patriots flowed unceasingly from it. The king was 
sent to the block. Anarchy was rampant. Disorder 

reigned supreme. Amid all this confusion, Napoleon 

4* 



82 THEBOYHOOD 

Saying of Demosthenes. Napoleon succossfal. 

remained steady at his tasks, and did not suffer this 
frenzy to disturb the equanimity of his mind or bate 
one tittle of his devotion to his studies ; and amid 
the corruptions of that corrupt age he escaped un- 
stained. His mother's instructions in his youth were 
the guiding principles of his manhood. He had an 
intuitive sense of honor and justice, upon which he 
acted. 

It is good to" trace the life of one who has been 
successful. It is instructive to go back to boyhood, 
and examine the education and habits which serve as 
the foundation stones on which the superstructure is 
built. Demosthenes has very pointedly observed, 
*'that in common life success is the greatest good, 
and that the next is conduct^ without which the first 
must be of short continuance." It is certainly the 
best fortune for which we can hope, to be successful 
in our efforts. Often, as the world goes, the good is 
left to obscurity and the undeserving triumphs. But 
it is still a source of satisfaction to have the assur- 
ance in one's own breast that he has deserved suc- 
cess. It serves to cultivate a good companionship 
with self. It enables us to merit our own esteem and 
confidence. But he who never makes one honest 
effort, and feels no enkindling aspiration that can 
inspire a hope, who is satisfied to live without suc- 
cess and without deserving it, is of all men the most 



OFNAPOLEON. 83 

Conclusion. 

brutish, and miserable. He neither enjoys the ap- 
plause of his fellow-men nor of himself Few men 
have been so successful as Napoleon. His was in- 
deed a brilliant career. His triumphs in the cabinet 
and in the field, are among the most remarkable ex- 
amples of the sublime in action. The iron will of 
that one man aroused all Europe in arms to oppose 
him, and in the terrible struggles which he inspired 
is seen the " compacted might of genius." But there 
are other fields for triumphs than those of war; and 
whenever we would encourage the youthful mind to 
put forth effort in preparation for triumphs, we can 
point with pride and confidence to the Boyhood of 
the humble Corsican 



LECTURE III. 

THE POWER OF SPOKEN THOUGHT. 

MANY years ago, the streets of London were 
filled with people, wending their way to 
Kensington Common. The gathering multitudes 
were composed of a motley throng from every class 
in that crowded city. The rich and the poor, the 
philosopher and the sweating mechanic, the poet and 
the street singer, proud lords and gay ladies, peers 
of the realm and ministers of state, — all eager and 
anxious, were there. The trees and fences, and 
stages built for the purpose, and chariot wheels, and 
the backs of gaily caparisoned horses, were crowded 
with the living throng. The eager countenances of 
these waiting thousands betokened some great oc- 
casion. The pride of dress and the beauty of coun- 
tenance added gayety to the scene. Yet there was 
no sound of martial music or rolling drum. There 
were no soldiers with gay plumes and epaulets, and 
red coats and glistening bayonets. There were no 
" white- winged" tents ; no amphitheater as at ancient 
Kome, where the wretched captive chiefs were bru- 



THE POWER OF SPOKEN THOUGHT. 85 

Preaching of Whitefield. Effect of his eloquence. 

tally murdered in gladiatorial contests for the sport 
of a Eoman holiday. This throng were attracted 
by no motives like these. They had come to hear a 
plain man preach. They had come to hear White- 
field preach. 

Patiently they stand in the open field, in God^s 
first temple, whose only canopy is the blue vault 
above, whose inlaid floor is the bright green earth, 
and encounter the press and the crowd, to hear 
the accents from the lips of him who was thought 
unworthy of gorgeous churches, where the worshipers 
recline upon velvet cushions, and where the mellow 
light streams through richly stained windows. They 
had come to hear a very common subjec-t, but from 
the lips of no ordinary man. The words from his 
tongue reach every ear, touch every heart. "What 
is in his countenance is reflected in theirs. Now in- 
dignation burns on every lip. Anon their streaming 
eyes attest the violence of their emotions. And now 
hope smiles through their tears. Thus he sways that 
vast assembly to and fro upon the stormy waves 
of his eloquence. It is not alone the tender-hearted 
girl that weeps, but the stout heart shares unre- 
strained the feeling which moves prince and peasant 
alike. That emotion that comes unbidden, that sus- 
ceptibility which nature has given all her children, 
responds to the touch of that master spirit. And 



86 THEPOWEROF 

Speech reported. Carefully written article. Tables of stone. 

the voice of an eternal Providence, whicli for a 
time infidelity may be deaf to^ and which, debauchery 
and crime may drown, must still be heard. 

The power of Mr. Whitefield^s preaching was very 
great. It is unusual that we meet with an exhibi- 
tion of the force and attractions of eloquence, and 
of its despotic power over every class of mind and 
character, such as was displayed by this wonderful 
man. It illustrates the influence which spoken 
thought is capable of effecting. In general, it is far 
superior to written thought. If a speech of unusual 
interest has been delivered on some pubHc occasion, 
the report of that speech, when published in the 
journals of the day, will attract attention, when an 
article of equal interest, and penned with the great- 
est care, is passed by without notice. 

The reason of this preference is obvious. We are 
fond of identifying the thoughts with the speaker 
who uttered them, and the occasion which called 
them forth. Abstract thought, unaccompanied with 
the incidents of its origin and promulgation, has few 
attractions except for those who are fond of pure in- 
tellections. The laws of God, when written upon 
tables of stone, were dead and powerless. The 
nations soon fell back into idolatry ; they became 
oblivious to every element of religious feeling, and 
worshiped and served the creature more than the 



SPOKENTHOUGHT. 87 

Remark of Macaulay. The sublime. Definition of Longinus. 

Creator. But when God in the personation of Jesus 
Christ came upon earth, and in the likeness of man, 
" spake as never man spake," and went about doing 
good, then the will of our Maker became a living 
power, before which the pride of philosophy and 
the blindness of superstition yielded, and gave place 
to religion pure and undefiled. " It was," says 
Macaulay, " before Deity embodied in human form, 
walking among men, partaking of their infirmities, 
leaning on their bosoms, weeping over their graves, 
slumbering in their mangers, bleeding on the cross, 
that the prejudices of the Academy, and the pride 
of the Portico, and the fasces of the lictor and the 
swords of thirty legions were humbled in the dust." 
The feeling which inspires the orator, is the most 
exalted of any that sways the bosom of man. In the 
moment of sublime conception and overwhelming 
emotion, he feels, in common with his hearers, more 
than words can express. At such a moment words 
become powerless, and feeling, rising above such 
poor exponents of thought, reigns supreme. This 
is the sublime. For " the sublime," says Longinus, 
"not only persuades, but even throws an audience 
into transports. In most cases it is wholly in our 
own power to resist or to yield to persuasion. But 
the sublime, endued with strength irresistible, strikes 
down and triumphs over every hearer. The sublime 



THE POWER OF 



Eloquence defined. Dr. Campbell. ' Of a critic. 

when seasonably addressed, witli the rapid force of 
lightning has borne down all before it, and shown 
at one stroke the compacted might of genius." 

The faculties which eloquence calls into exercise 
are the most exalted of which a human soul is pos- 
sessed. Eeason, imagination, taste, — those powers 
that are last developed, and which are the crowning 
graces of the mind, — are the agencies of the orator. 
But even these, without the inspiration of a spirit 
burning with an ardent purpose, are powerless. 
These faculties must arouse corresponding ones in 
the minds of those who are addressed. The thoughts 
which are in the spirit of one man, must be trans- 
ferred to the bosoms of other men. The electric 
chords which vibrate so musically in the breast of 
the speaker must telegraph to those addressed. The 
flashing eye, the burning lip, the beating heart, be- 
tween speaker and hearer must be reciprocal. 

Ehetoricians have attempted to define eloquence. 
But the most truthful and refined definition can have 
little relevancy to him who has not felt it. Dr. 
Campbell defines it as "that art by which the dis- 
course is adapted to its end ; and that all the ends of 
speaking are reducible to four ; every speech being 
intended to enlighten the understanding, to please 
the imagination, to move the passions, or to influence 
the will." This is the definition of a critic, rather 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 89 

Quintilian. Cicero. Washington. 

than that of a master of the art. It is eloquence 
adroitly quartered and carefully dissected. It is a 
definition which may be abstractly appreciated, but 
one which would convey no idea to him who had 
never felt it. Quintilian says that eloquence is " Sci- 
entia bene dicendi^''^ the art of speaking well, which is 
as dull and lifeless as it is brief. This is also the 
definition of a critic. But Cicero says, " Optimus 
orator qui dicendo^ ardmos audierdiura, et docet^ et ddec- 
tat, et xje.rraovef — he is the best orator who in speak- 
ing, both teaches, and delights, and greatly moves the 
minds of his auditory. This is the defiaition of one 
who has felt all that he describes, who has portrayed 
the impression drawn from his own consciousness. 
It was inspired by the remembrance of stirring 
scenes in which he had been a leading actor; the 
courts of j ustice where he had plead, the struggles 
of the commonwealth for life when surrounded by 
conspirators, and the senate house where Caesar fell. 

But there is no definition, however pointed or life- 
like, that can convey any adequate idea. The best 
of them are merely formulae, to which he who has 
heard and felt may refer his impressions. When 
Washington, after having led the feeble army of his 
country for eight long years, struggling on against 
every disheartening circumstance, and hoping even 
against hope, at last had triumphed over his open 



90 THEPOWEROF 

WashinErton takin;? leave of his officers. His sword. Bossnet. 



foes in the field, and tlie more dangerous ones who 
in secret were plotting his overthrow, when peace at 
length came, and he felt that his services were no 
longer needed, he went to the hall of Congress to de- 
liver up his sword. He saw about him those who 
had stood by him with their counsels through many- 
dark and troublous days. With a voice faltering 
with emotion at the remembrance of the past, he 
spoke those sublime and pathetic words that are dear 
to every lover of his country. But when he came to 
take leave of his officers, those who had been his 
companions in arms, who had shared with him the 
privations of the camp and the carnage of the battle 
field, and had been faithful to the last, the struggling 
emotions quivered on his lips ; he could not speak, 
his feelings were too strong for utterance, and he 
pressed the hand of each in silence and departed. 
This was eloquence. It was speaking without speak- 
ing. It was the height of the sublime. 

But one month from the time Bossuet pronounced 
his funeral oration over the corpse of the royal 
mother, he was called to perform the same solemn 
rite over the young and beautiful Princess Henrietta, 
"so highly stationed, so greatly gifted, so widely 
admired, and so generally loved. The idol of the 
world ! The pride of her august family ! The de- 
light of all who approached her I" As he described 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 91 



Funeral oration over the Princess Henrietta. Marseilles Hymn. 

the short but brilliant career of the princess, every 
heart was borne along upon the full tide of his 
words. But the interest which the successive events 
of her life excited, when portrayed in the lovely light 
of his well-known eloquence, only served to make 
the catastrophe to which he was approaching more 
terrible, and as he came to utter that passage, '' when, 
like a peal of thunder, the dreadful words — ' Henri- 
etta is dying — Henrietta is dead,' — ^burst upon us, 
nothing was discernible but grief, despair, and the 
image of death ;" the effect was overwhelming ; the 
whole audience rose from their seats, and Bossuet 
himself was so much affected that for some moments 
he was unable to speak. 

It is only by experience in those emotions which 
eloquence is capable of producing that we can form 
any conception of its nature. He who has felt it, 
and has a heart to appreciate it, alone has the key 
that unlocks the mystery of its powder. There are 
certain tones of the voice that have a wonderful 
effect upon the human soul. It is said that the sing- 
ing of the Marseilles Hymn in the streets of Paris 
brought on the French Eevolution, Those electric 
tones which thrilled the nerves of the young French- 
man, which filled his heart with desire for glory, 
which fired his passions with hatred and revenge for 
his oppressors, and which inspired a love for liberty 



92 THEPOWEROF 



Speaker an exponent of thought. Incident of the clergyman. Demosthenes. 



and equal rights, nerved his soul to fight in their de- 
fense — to bare his ~bosom to that terrible death-storm 
that swept the continent of Europe — and with his 
dying breath exclaim — 

" Te SODS of France, awake to glory !" 

The speaker is but the exponent of the thoughts 
and feelings of those whom he addresses. If his 
feelings are thoroughly aroused, if he is fully in ear- 
nest, he will be likely to imbue the breasts of his 
hearers with the emotions of his own heart. " A 
clergyman of our country states that he once told an 
affecting incident to Mr. Whitefield, relating it, how- 
ever, with but the ordinary feeling and beauty of a 
passing conversation ; when afterward, on hearing 
Whitefield preach, up came his own story, narrated 
by the preacher in the pulpit with such native pa- 
thos and power that the clergyman himself, who had 
furnished Whitefield with the dry bones of illustra- 
tion, found himself weeping like a child."* 

It is interesting to observe with what varied effect 
different men may pronounce the same sentence. 
Every school-boy has read how Demosthenes, after 
having been unsuccessful in his first attempt at public 
speaking, retiring from the assembly in despair, was 

* Todd's " Girl at School," page 141. 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 93 

Dull speaker. Archbishop "Whately. Sympathy with the speaker. 

met bj a friend wlio spoke to him some encouraging 
words, and requesting him to recite a few sentences 
of a familiar poet, repeated them in tones so distinct, 
and with such force of utterance, that Demosthenes 
could not beheve it the same passage. 

There are some public speakers who come before 
us and read beautifully written pieces. The argu- 
ment is well planned, and constructed upon sound 
principles. The reasoning is perfectly accurate. The 
imagery is beautifully wrought, and introduced where 
Archbishop Whately himself would approve. Com- 
bined, it is a perfect piece, and its delivery is well 
toned. And yet, faultless as it is, it fails to attract 
attention. No interest is excited. The speaker does 
not enlist our sympathies. We strive in vain to ac- 
company him upon the velvet lawn he treads. The 
monotony induces stupor. It is by an effort that we 
arouse to a sense of the proprieties of the occasion, 
and we are relieved when the speaker closes his dis- 
course, 

" So coldly sweet, so deadly fair." 

The contrast is agreeable when we are brought 
into sympathy with one who inspires us with a fer- 
vor of feeling which we can not resist. His words 
come warm from a feeling heart. He is full of pas- 
sion as well as argument and imagery. He not only 
teaches, but he greatly moves the minds of his hear- 



94 THEPOWEROF 



Speaker believes his own words. Incident of the farmer. 



ers. That feeling whicli he possesses lie transfers to 
them. Our minds are taken captive ; we hear every 
word ; we watch every action ; we laugh when he 
laughs ; we weep when he weeps. "We feel no fa- 
tigue, no weariness, and we regret when he is 
through that he has no more to say. 

Thought in the hands of such a man has life and 
power. We feel in his presence as though he were 
the ruling spirit ; we realize the value of his thoughts 
as he does himself But it often happens that the 
impression is felt among those who are endeavoring 
to listen, that the speaker himself is not interested in 
what he is saying, that he does not appreciate the 
force of his own words, and leaves it doubtful 
whether he believes them. It is related that a 
farmer in the country once had a friend visiting him 
from the city, and on the Sabbath took him to 
church with him. When they were at home again 
and seated by the fire, the old man, fond of having 
his minister praised, asked his guest how he liked 
the preaching. The friend replied, " tolerably well." 
The old man, piqued at the slur cast upon the minis- 
ter, turned with some warmth and inquired, " Did 
he not tell the truth ?" '' Yes," answered his friend, 
^' he told the truth, and he would have told the truth 
had he got up and declared all the forenoon that his 
name was John." 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 95 

Mission of the preacher. Hindrances. Eemark of Mr. Giles. 

The minister of the gospel has, perhaps, of all 
other classes of public speakers, the most difficulties 
and discouraging circumstances to encounter. Dr. 
Campbell, in his Philosophy of Ehetoric, lays down 
this general principle: "that the more mixed the 
auditory, the greater is the difficulty of speaking 
with effect; and that we may justly reckon a Chris- 
tian congregation in a populous and flourishing city, 
where there is a great variety in rank and education, 
of all audiences the most promiscuous." When the 
Spirit of Grod moves the heart of the preacher of the 
gospel, when he fully appreciates the greatness of his 
calling, when he feels the stirring nature of the mes- 
sage which he is delegated to proclaim to the world, 
and the consequences which must result from his 
labors, there can be no mission on earth more ins|)ir- 
ing. But this inspiration does not always operate 
upon the followers of the humble fishermen. The 
ministry are human, and are subject to the weak- 
nesses and depressions of spirit that are incident to 
us all ; and the trials and difficulties which they have 
to encounter often press upon them with overwhelm- 
ing power. Mr. Giles, in his essay on the pulpit, ob- 
serves that "the necessity of periodical composition 
is, in itself alone, no slight aggravation of ministerial 
toil. Who, that has ever experienced the necessity 
of stated intellectual preparation, will not understand 



THE POWER OF 



Other professions. The Lawyer, 

this ? The head may be heavy with bodily disease, 
or tlie heart sick with inward grief; the pen may 
tremble in the hand, and the eye grow dim with sor- 
row ; but the shadow is already upon his imagina- 
tion and the weekly sermon must be ready. Alas ! 
the tale of brick must be forthcoming, and often 
there is not wherewith to make it." 

If the preacher of the gospel is highly educated, 
his task may seem to be easy. But even education 
acts as a clog upon the passions. Protracted contem- 
plation wears the brain, and eats away upon the vital 
energies. Intense application of the mental facul- 
ties sometimes operates to smother emotion, and to 
deaden the sympathies. The fastidious cultivation 
of the style may depress the devotional affections. 
Of the other professions in which public speaking 
forms a part of the duties, there are circumstances 
which render the labor less arduous and trying. 
The pleader at the bar has only a bench of judges, 
or a jury of twelve men to address, whose characters 
he may individually study, whose prejudices he may 
appeal to, whose vanity he may flatter, and whose 
sympathies he may enlist. The circumstances of the 
case awaken interest, and the anxiety of the client 
spurs him on to exertion. When the excitement of 
a term of court is over, which has served to quicken 
his powers, he enjoys periods of relaxation from the 



SPOKENTHOUGHT. 97 

The Legislator. Orator must first feel. 

drudgery of public speaking. The legislator has a 
body of equals before whom he speaks, who can 
readily apprehend and digest his opinions, and whose 
attention he can easily secure. The excitement of 
debate is admirably fitted to arouse his talents, and 
draw forth, the fires of eloquence. Often he knows 
not when he is to speak till the emergency is upon 
him, and the principles of his party, with which he 
is at all times familiar, demand his aid. 

But whatever may be the character of the au- 
dience, the subject of discourse, or the circumstances 
of the speaker himself, it is a matter of the first im- 
portance that he should thoroughly feel and under- 
stand what he has to say. For we always conclude, 
whether it be the minister of the gospel or the mem- 
ber of Congress, the lawyer or the lecturer, if he 
fails to impress his hearers, that the divinity does 
not move in his own soul. It is necessary for a 
speaker to realize fully the importance of what he 
has to communicate, to be desirous that the minds 
of his hearers may be precisely in that state in which 
he finds his own. When he can open his discourse 
with this feeling, he may consider it as a sure indi- 
cation that he is to succeed, that he will in some 
way reach their hearts with his words. But there 
are too many men who attempt to perform the of- 
fices of public speaking, like the character whom 



98 THEPOWEROF 



Shakspeare's orator. Speak from a full heart. 



Shakspeare describes, " Who speaks an infinite deal 
of nothing, more than any man in all Yenice. His 
reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels 
of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them ; 
and when you have them they are not worth the 
search." 

He who would influence men and make them of 
his mind, in these days so characterized by hurry 
and commotion, of point blank directness and light- 
ning speed, must speak from a full heart. He must 
pour forth his words as though he meant men should 
believe them. The hearer expects this, and he will 
not be induced to take his attention from those 
thoughts which haunt his brain, unless the speaker 
presents him something of sufficient importance to 
recall him from wandering meditations. Listlessness 
and inattention on the part of the hearer speak in a 
language no less audible than words, 

"If you would have me weep, begin the strain."* 

It has often been remarked, that it is not the 
speaker whose opinions are most weighty, or whose 
speech has most intrinsic merit, that always produces 
the greatest influence. It is an observation that is 



-Si vis me flere, dolendum est 



Primum ipse tibl' 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 99 

Ck)inhinat.ion of gifts. Language of emotion. 

often repeated, that if Mr. A's address could have 
been delivered by Mr. B, it would have been excel- 
lent. There is a happy combination of gifts which 
seem to fit some men to be eloquent. We listen with 
admiration to whatever they have to say, if it be 
but a simple announcement. If we seek for the 
secret of their skill, we must find it, if at all, in our 
emotional nature. Eloquence is the work of the 
emotions. A thought, to deserve the name of be- 
ing eloquent, must originate in emotion and must 
terminate in emotion. The voice is the agency by 
which this effect is produced. The tones of the 
voice, though they do not express words, are still 
capable of being understood, and of producing an 
effect upon the mind. Every person in this assembly 
might speak in a language unknown to the others ; 
and yet we could readily distinguish whether it were 
in joy or anger. A screech of anguish or of fear 
causes every one to start. The infant too young to 
talk, will make its wants and feelings known quite 
as successfully by its varying tones of voice, — from 
those of unbounded pleasure to uncontrollable grief, 
— as it can in later years by the use of words. 

These tones constitute the language of emotion. 
It is by means of these that feelings of extreme de- 
light or anguish are made known. The man who is 
overjoyed does not give utterance to his feelings in 



100 THE POWER OF 

Secret of orator's power. David Garvick. 

words, but he bursts forth in the full tones of laugh- 
ter. Whereas he who is suffering intense pain ex- 
presses it by moans and weeping. This language of 
the emotions is easily communicated. "We may hear 
a person laugh. He laughs from a soul full of the 
risible emotion ; and although we know not the 
occasion of his joy, yet we feel like laughing too. 
On the contrary, we always feel sad when we ap- 
proach the bed of a sick person and hear the voice 
of anguish from the sufierer. In the skillful use of 
these tones of emotion lies the secret of the orator's 
power. 

Perhaps no man ever understood the compass 
and expressiveness of the human voice better thaa 
David Garrick. His quick, intuitive spirit had 
threaded all the secret mazes and windings of the 
human heart. And by those silver tones of his, as 
by the wand of the magician, he could "make 
the past present, and the distant near." He could 
take the minds of men and lead them on in what 
track he would. It was true he was an actor, and 
spoke the thoughts of others. Yet it was praise 
enough for him, that he drew from those productions 
which graced the stage, sparks of genius, which to 
the reader's eye would have ever remained unap- 
preciated. In him was seen the character which he 
represented, in greater gi^andeur and majesty than it 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 101 

The verse of Shakspeare. Lear. Othello. Macbeth. Caesar. 

Lad ever appeared to the poet's eye rolling in its 
finest frenzy. The delighted author saw his thoughts 
take shapes which he had never himself fully real- 
ized. The verse of Shakspeare was his delight. And 
those beautiful and majestic words would never have 
fallen upon the ear with half their sweetness and 
their power, had it not been for the tongue of Garrick. 
And yet he once declared that he would give a hun- 
dred pounds, if he could only speak the word " Oh I" 
as Whitefield did. In this he was conscious of his 
inability. The training and course of thought of the 
two had been widely different. Garrick was indeed 
familiar with all the horrors of life. He could feel 
and act and express the agony and madness of Lear, 
the jealousy of Othello, the writhings of Macbeth 
under the consciousness of guilt, and the imperial 
majesty of Caesar. But the imagination of White- 
field had traveled on beyond the grave. He had 
not only contemplated the passions which rend the 
bosom while living, and the agonies and struggles of 
the death scene, but he could in fancy accompany 
the soul to its destiny in the eternity beyond. In 
view of the tortures of the lost, which were to him 
ever present realities, he could but warn the living 
in exclamations deep-mouthed and awful. 

Few men of modern times have produced so great 
an effect by preaching the gospel as did Whitefield. 



102 THEPOWEROF 

Anecdote of Lord Chesterfield. 

It is related that on a certain occasion when he was 
speaking to an~ immense assembly in the open air, 
Lord Chesterfield came to hear him. He drove as 
near to the speaker as he possibly could, and re- 
mained seated in his carriage. "Whitefield was de- 
scribing the condition and final fate of the sinner, 
who refused to listen to the warnings and entreaties 
of his friends, and compared him to one who is sus- 
pended over a yawning gulf, reaching forth for what- 
ever object meets his view, regardless of his peril. 
Chesterfield was leaning forward from his carriage to 
catch every syllable ; and the preacher represents the 
friends of the deluded man coming to show him his 
danger. They point him to the chasm below and 
the brittle thread by wbich he is suspended. But he 
refuses to hear them, and struggles and grasps for 
the objects about him that please his fancy. The 
thread wears away and begins to break, till he is held 
but by a single fiber. His friends beg and entreat ; 
he turns from them for his pleasure — the thread snaps 
— he falls. At this word, Chesterfield exclaimed, 
" My God, he's gone !" — forgetting the proprieties of 
the occasion, with all his sympathies enlisted for the 
poor deluded being whom he sees suspended by a 
brittle thread before him, and shuddering as he be- 
holds the fibers loosen, — it breaks — he is lost — -and 
the great man utters the exclamation as though it 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 103 

Power of the speaker's words. All else forgotten. Patrick Henry. 

were all real. It is rare that one acquires such a 
command over his hearers, such a power that all is 
forgotten, save the creations of the speaker's fancy. 
Place and circumstance are unnoticed, and the hearer 
bends forward spell-bound to catch the syllable glow- 
ing from his lips. 

We have had one man in our own country who 
possessed this power in an eminent degree. That 
man was Patrick Henry. The opening scenes of the 
Eevolutiou were well fitted to arouse his passions, and 
to work upon a mind so susceptible to emotion as 
was his. Many of his speeches then made on politi- 
cal questions, were characteristic of the skill which. 
lie possessed. But his true sphere, or rather the 
sphere in which, he could be most effective, was with- 
out doubt before a jury as a criminal lawyer. This 
was the stage on which he delighted to act. On one 
occasion a clergyman was prosecuted in Virginia for 
violating some sectarian law of the State, and in the 
indictment there occurred this clause — "for preach- 
ing the gospel of Jesus Christ." Henry volunteered 
to defend him. The indictment was read and laid 
upon the table. The prosecuting attorney- delivered 
a labored argument to prove the charge and secure a 
conviction. When he was through, Henry arose, 
grasped the indictment, swung it about his head and 
exclaimed " My God ! prosecuted for preaching the 



104 THE POWEK OF 

•'Not guilty," Study of character. Disregard of precedent. 

Eeligion of Jesus Christ! What drd our fathers 
come to this country for?" He swung it again about 
his head, — dashed it upon the floor, — stamped upon 
it with his feet and took his seat. Such an effect did 
those few words have upon jury and audience, that 
they were seized with indignation against the man 
who could prefer such a suit. Without retiring 
from their seats a verdict of "not guilty" was 
rendered. 

The power of Mr. Henry's eloquence in many of 
his early efforts seems past belief and well nigh mi- 
raculous. From early youth he was quiet and con- 
templative in his deportment, and possessed a pecul- 
iar tact for relating striking facts and anecdotes. He 
was particularly fond of argument, and often drew 
the neighbors, who frequented the store where he was 
employed, into wrangling discussions, that he might 
observe the working of their passions or come to the 
relief of the beleaguered party. He was much given 
to meditation. And when he came to plead causes, 
he made his argument from an original and element- 
ary analysis of the case, — ^paying little regard to pre- 
cedents, — with illustrations drawn from his own 
fancy. He had not much reverence or use for law 
books , and had his causes been decided according to 
precedent, the result would have been very dama- 
ging to his success as a lawyer. Bat a jury of com- 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 105 

Powers at command. Parson's case. Appearance. 

mon men will liear eloquence when they will pay 
little regard to the dry details of co-ordinate cases. 

In the management of a discourse Mr. Henry was 
signally successful. All his powers of mind and of 
body seemed to flock about him when he entered 
the arena. His approach to a cause was like the. 
war-horse " that paweth in the valley and rejoiceth 
in his strength; and goeth on to meet the armed 
men." His frame dilated. The features of his face 
took new relations. His head was erect. The whole 
bearing of his person was noble. His biographer, in 
narrating the circumstances connected with the cele- 
brated " Parson's case," has given a glowing account 
of the trial, and in alluding to the plea of Mr. Henry 
he says, " Ko one had ever heard him speak, and 
curiosity was on tiptoe. He rose very awkwardly, 
and faltered much in his exordium. The people 
hung their heads at so unpromising a commence- 
ment ; the clergy were observed to exchange sly 
looks with each other ; and his father, who was 
upon the bench, is described as having almost sunk 
from his seat. But these feelings were of short du- 
ration, and soon gave place to others of a very differ- 
ent character. For now were those wonderful facul- 
ties which he possessed, for the first time developed; 
and now was witnessed that mysterious and almost 
supernatural transformation of appearance, which the 



106 THE POWER OF 

EflFect produced. Dignified and manly eloquence. 

fire of his own eloquence never failed to work in 
him. For as his mind rolled along, and began to 
glow from its own action, all the exuvia3 of the 
clown seemed to shed themselves spontaneously. 
His attitude by degrees became erect and lofty. The 
spirit of his genius awakened all his features. His 
countenance shone with a nobleness and grandeur 
which it had never before exhibited. There was a 
lightning in his eyes which seemed to rive the spec- 
tator. His action became graceful, bold and com- 
manding ; and in the tones of his voice, but more 
especially in his emphasis, there was a peculiar 
charm, a magic, of which any one who ever heard 
him will speak as soon as he is named, but of which 
no one can give any adequate description. They 
can only say that it struck upon the ear and upon 
the heart, in a manner that language can not tell. 
Add to all these his wonder-working fancy, and the 
peculiar phraseology in which he clothed his images ; 
for he painted to the heart with a force that almost 
petrified it. In the language of those who heard 
him on this occasion, ' he made their blood to run 
cold and their hair to rise on end.' " 

It is not often that the power of intensely moving 
the emotions, is found united with the highest order 
of dignified and manly eloquence. It requires a 
mind constructed on the grandest scale. The facul- 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 107 

Daniel "Webster, Dartmouth College. Supreme Court of U. S. 

ties need to be nicely balanced. The judgment must 
be broad and firm ; tbe sense of justice and integ- 
rity thoroughly inwrought into the mental consti- 
tution. Providence rarely bestows such gifts. We 
find them perhaps more perfectly combined in the 
mind of Daniel Webster than in any other in the 
history of our nation. There are few positions in 
which a public speaker can be placed, in which he 
had not the talents to succeed. His power was 
equally felt whether he spoke in presence of a bench 
of learned judges, or before a promiscuous assembly 
of ten thousand people. Nor does he, to accomplish 
this result, adopt a method peculiar to the audience 
whom he addresses. All his great efforts are marked 
with that plain but lofty style, which identify it as 
the stately steppings of his giant mind ; and it is 
equally characterized by a pathos and sublimity 
which move the passions of his hearers. When he 
argued the cause of Dartmouth College versus the 
State of ISTew Hampshire, before the Supreme Court 
of the United States, composed of Chief Justice Mar- 
shall, associated with Washington, Livingston, John- 
son, Story, Todd, and Duvall, men the most vener- 
able and august that ever graced that bench, it is 
related by one* who heard him on the occasion, that 

* Before going to ^Washington, which I did chiefly for the sake of 



108 THE POWER OF 

Argument of Mr. "Webster. 

for upwards of four hours he detailed to the court, 
in the most clear and lucid style, the features of 
the case, without apparent effort to himself or his 



hearing Mr. "Webster, I was told that, in arguing the case at Exeter, 
New Hampshire, he had left the whole court-room in tears at the 
conclusion of his speech. This, I confess, struck me unpleasantly — 
any attempt at pathos on a purely legal question like this, seemed 
hardly in good taste. On my way to Washington, I made the ac- 
quaintance of Mr. Webster. We were together several days in Phila- 
delphia, at the house of a common friend ; and as the College question 
was one of deep interest to literary men, we conversed often and 
largely on the subject. As he dwelt upon the leading points of the 
case, in terms so calm, simple, and precise, I said to myself more than 
once, in reference to the story I had heard, " Whatever may have 
seemed appropriate in defending the college at home, and on her own 
ground, there will be no appeal to the feelings of Judge Marshall and 
his associates at Washington." The Supreme Court of the United 
States held its session, that winter, in a mean apartment of moderate 
size — the Capitol not having been built after its destruction in 1814. 
The audience, when the case came on, was therefore small, consisting 
chiefly of legal men, the elite of the profession throughout the country. 
Mr. Webster entered upon his argument in the calm tone of easy and 
dignified conversation. His matter was so completely at his command 
that he scarcely looked at his brief, but went on for more than four 
hours with a statement so luminous, and a chain of reasoning so easy 
to be understood, and yet approaching so nearly to absolute demon- 
stration, that he seemed to carry with him every man of his audience 
without the slightest effort or weariness on either side. It was hardly 
eloquence, in the strict sense of the term ; it was pure reason. Now 
and then, for a sentence or two, his eye flashed and his voice swelled 
uito a bolder note, as he uttered some emphatic thought ; but he in- 
stantly feU back into the tone of earnest conversation, which ran 
throughout the great body of his speech. A single circumstance will 
show you the clearness and absorbing power of his argument. I 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 109 

Case of every college. Pathetic appeal. 

auditory, and that in the few pathetic sentences, 
with which he closed his argument, he so wrought 
upon the feelings of his hearers that he left them 



observed that Judge Story, at the opening of the case, had prepared 
hunself, pen in hand, as if to take copious minutes. Hour after hour 
I saw him fixed in the same attitude, but, so far as I could perceive, 
with not a note on his paper. The argument closed, and / could not 
discover that he had taken a single note. Others around me remarked 
the same thing, and it was among the on dits of Washington, that a 
friend spoke to him of the fact with surprise, when the judge re- 
marked, " Every thmg was so clear, and so easy to remember, that 
not a note seemed necessary, and, in fact, I thought little or nothing 
about my notes." The argument ended. Mr. Webster stood for 
some moments silent before the court, while every eye was fixed 
intently upon him. At length, addressing the Chief Justice, Marshall, 
he proceeded thus : — " This^ sir, is my case. It is the case, not merely 
of that humble institution, it is the case of every college in our land. 
It is more. It is the case of every eleemosynary institution through- 
out our country — of all those great charities founded by the piety of 
our ancestors to alleviate human misery, and scatter blessings along 
the pathway of life. It is more. It is, in some sense, the case of 
every man among us who has property of which he may be stripped ; 
for the question is simply this: shall our State Legislatures be al- 
lowed to take that which is not their own, to turn it from its original 
use, and apply it to such ends or purposes as they, in their discretion, 
shall see fit ? Sir, you may destroy this little institution ; it is weak ; 
it is in your hands ! I know it is one of the lesser hghts in the liter- 
ary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But if you do so, 
you must carry through your work. You must extinguish, one after 
another, all those great lights of science which, for more than a cen- 
tury, have thrown their radiance over our land. 

" It is, sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet, there are those 
who love it ." 

Here the feelings which he had thus far succeeded in keeping down. 



110 THE POWER OF 

"Words of tenderness. Emotion of the judges. Scene for a painter. 

and even that grave bencli of judges, moved with 
the strongest emotions, and eyes suffused with tears. 
It was my lot to have heard Mr. Webster but once. 



broke forth. His lips quivered ; his firm cheeks trembled with emo- 
tion ; his eyes were filled with tears ; his voice choked, and he seemed 
struggling to the utmost, simply to gain that mastery over himsell 
which might save him from an unmanly burst of feehng. I will not 
attempt to give you the few broken words of tenderness in which he 
went on to speak of his attachment to the college. The whole 
seemed to be mingled throughout with the recollections of father, 
mother, brother, and aU the trials and privations through which he 
had made his way into life. Every one saw that it was wholly un- 
premeditated, a pressure on his heart, which sought relief in words 
and tears. The court-room, during these two or three minutes, pre- 
sented an extraordinary spectacle. Chief Justice Marshall, with hi3 
tall, gaunt figure, bent over as if to catch the slightest whisper, the 
deep furrows of his cheek expanded with emotion, and eyes suffused 
with tears ; Itlr. Justice Washington at his side, with his smaU and 
emaciated frame, and countenance more like marble than I ever saw 
on any other human being — leaning forward with an eager, troubled 
look ; and the remainder of the court, at the two extremities, pressing, 
as it were, towards a single point, while the audience below were 
wrapping themselves round in closer folds beneath the bench to catch 
each look, and every movement of the speaker's face. If a painter 
could give us the scene on canvas — those forms and countenances, 
and Daniel Webster as he then stood in the midst, it would be one of 
the most touching pictures in the history of eloquence. One thing it 
taught me, that the pathetic depends not merely on the words uttered, 
but still more on the estimate we put upon him who utters them. 
There was not one among the strong-minded men of that assembly 
who could think it unmanly to weep, when he saw, standing before 
him, the man who had made such an argument melted into the 
tenderness of a child. 

Mr. Webster had now recovered his composure, and fixing hia 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. Ill 

Alma Mater. Personal recollection of Mr. "Webster. 

He had been secured by a " Library Association" to 
deliver an address. The occasion was one of simply 
ordinary interest — the usual weekly lecture. But 
long before the time announced, the spacious hall 
was filled to overflowing. I was so fortunate as 
to secure a favorable seat, and waited patiently for 
hours that I might fully satisfy the desire of seeing 
and hearing the American Cicero. At a few mo- 
ments before eight o'clock the side door opened, and 
a hale, well-formed man, something past the meridian 
of life, advanced unattended to the platform, which 
he mounted with a ready step, and advancing a few 
paces, retaining a kid glove upon the left hand in 
which he held his hat, he bowed gracefully to the 
audience, and retired to a sofa. Daniel Webster was 
before us ! The grace and noble bearing of the man 
■upon his entrance, which seemed to sit so easily 



keen eye on the Chief Justice, said, in that deep tone with which ho 
sometimes thrilled the heart of an audience: — "Sir, I know not how 
others may feel," (glancing at the opponents of the college before hira,) 
" but, for myself, when I see my alma mater surrounded, like Cassar in 
the senate-house, by those who are reiterating stab upon stab, I would 
not, for this right hand, have her turn to me, and say, Et tu, quoque, 
mi fill ! And thou, too, my son .'" He sat down. There was a death- 
like stillness throughout the room for some moments; every one 
seemed to be slowly recovering himself, and coming gradually back to 
his ordinary range of thought and feeling. — Choate's Eulogy on Daniel 
Webster, page 35. Incident commuriicated by Dr. Chauncey A. Good- 
rich. 



112 THE POWER OF 

Emphatically a man. The Constitution. His voice. 

•Qpon him, produced a favorable impression. The 
thought that came to my mind, as we were greeted 
with the bow, was, that if a being from another world 
were to come upon this earth and desire to see a 
specimen of the race, here is the individual I would 
present, — in form — in features — in fuU-souled bear- 
ing, so entirely a man. As he arose to speak, I could 
observe him more minutely. His cheeks were ruddy, 
his eye was clear and bright, his dress was simple but 
tasteful — a blue coat, a buff vest and black pants, — 
his usual dress for a public occasion. His hair, thin 
and sprinkled with the frosts of age, was brushed 
back as represented in the pictures. 

His subject was the Constitution, that instrument 
which he first read, when a boy, printed upon his 
pocket handkerchief, and the theme which of all 
others he most delighted to speak about. The dis- 
course was entirely extempore^ and was mainly de- 
voted to a history of the formation of the Consti- 
tution, and the opinions entertained of it by the 
framers. There was nothing particularly striking or 
original in the matter. Yet there were many facts 
which he had learned from the mouths of the men 
who took part in those grave deliberations, which 
were deeply interesting, and at times held the au- 
dience breathless. His voice was bold and majestic, 
like the full-toned bell of some lofty tower. It was 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 113 

Eulogy of Adams and Jeflferson. " Sink or Swim." 

the voice which could represent our race. But there 
was something in that presence which no pen can 
describe — a majesty which we attach to kings and 
emperors. Sometimes he faltered for an instant, and 
when the precise word or thought would not come at 
his bidding, that noble eye would invariably roll up 
in the socket as if in search, and he would pass his 
hand over his forehead as though to arouse it. His 
countenance rarely changed — lofty and majestic like 
the fabled countenance of Jove in the halls of the 
gods. Every feature was lit up with the brightness 
of a great mind filled with generous thoughts. 

Once only during the discourse a smile was seen 
to play upon his countenance. The occasion of it 
was this: in that part of his lecture in which he 
alluded to Adams and Jefferson, he said that at their 
death he had, at the request of his fellow-citizens, 
delivered a eulogy ; and in that part which referred 
to Mr. Adams, — that he might inspire it with life, — 
he was desirous of introducing his speech on the 
adoption of the Declaration of Independence. As 
Congress sat in secret session at that time, and no 
speeches were reported, the remarks of Mr. Adams 
were lost. He accordingly composed and inserted in 
the eulogy, what he thought Mr. Adams would be 
likely to have said, beginning, " Sink or swim, live 
or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration." 



114 THE POWER OF 

Instrument of good as well as of evil. 

Since tlie delivery of that eulogy, Mr. Webster said 
tliat lie had received, on an average, two letters a 
month, from 1824 to the time he was speaking, in 
1851, from persons in various parts of this country 
and from Europe, asking where he found that speech 
of Mr. Adams, stating that they had searched the 
records and the archives of state, without being 
able to discover any trace of it. 

My impression from this personal reminiscence of 
Mr. Webster, is, that our opinion of his eloquence is 
greatly modified by our appreciation of his overshad- 
owing mind. At all events^ it is a matter of consola- 
tion to have seen the man and to have heard his voice. 
It is good to look upon the face of one in whom com- 
manding talents have been united with majesty of 
person, to behold grace and dignity where nature has 
set them, and to come into immediate contact and sym- 
pathy with one of the leading minds of the world. 

Spoken thought is an instrument of great power. 
Its influence is confined to no sphere of action, and 
may be employed for purposes of evil as well as of 
good. It may be made to minister to virtue and 
happiness. It may be the instrument of wrong and 
incalculable sorrow. In the hands of the licentious 
villain, it may arouse in the breast of innocence the 
worst passions of which our nature is susceptible. 
From the lips of the earnest minister of the gospel, 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 115 

In the science of governujent. 

it may lift us up and transport us to tlie very gate of 
heaven. 

At the tribunal of justice it may turn the scale in 
favor of wrong, trample upon the most sacred prin- 
ciples of honor, and crush the very heart of inno- 
cence ; or it may inspire the evil doer with terror, 
and lead him in the way of virtue. It may paralyze 
the rights of the poor injured victim of that heart- 
less man who would take advantage of weakness 
and ignorance ; or it may pour into the wounded 
breast a balm, and convince mankind that there 
still is faith on the earth, and that the spirit of jus- 
tice has not yet taken her final flight. 

In the science of government it may serve the 
purpose of duplicity and personal selfishness ; or it 
may inspire the breast with undying courage in the 
defense of liberty and the rights of civil society. 
The man in whose heart burns not one generous 
aspiration for the public good, who would sell the 
liberties of his country for his own personal aggran- 
dizement, may go on from court-house to court- 
house, from city to city, and from State to State, 
pouring out as it were his very heart in burning 
eloquence, and all that his particular friend may be 
elected President, and he be appointed a member of 
the cabinet, a minister to a foreign court, or the 
governor of a territory. Or it may be in the hands 



116 THE POWEE OF 

The achievements of virtue. 

of the disinterested, noble-minded patriot, the power 
which sunders the bonds of the oppressed, which 
lights the torch of civil liberty, which rouses in 
a nation the spirit that has slept for centuries, 
and makes the heart of the abused and long suffer- 
ing vserf to leap for gladness. With the philan- 
thropist it vindicates the brotherhood of nfan. It 
binds up the broken heart, and alleviates the sor- 
rows and distresses of the unfortunate. 

If there is any thing that can be achieved by fo- 
rensic eloquence — by the spirit of man, which can be 
a source of pride in life, which can adorn the name 
when he who bore it lies mouldering in the tomb, 
it is the achievement of virtue. If a distinguished 
orator makes a speech on a topic which concerns the 
public interest, what is the judgment of mankind 
concerning it? If he has appealed to the sense of 
right and justice, if he has shown a clean heart and 
a disinterested purpose, and moves with power upon 
their feelings, he is honored and revered, and his 
memory is sweet to them. But if he displays the 
traces of a low, mean ambition, if he attempts by 
smooth words to create an under current, which 
shall some day carry him into some position of 
emolument, the universal sense of mankind is to 
damn and execrate him for it. The orator, and es- 
pecially the political orator, is too often captivated 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 117 

Eloquence among the Greeks. Their language. 

by present honors and gratifications than the more 
enduring fame ; is better pleased with a green exotic 
than the fadeless laurel. 

No state, either ancient or modern, ever yielded so 
much to the power of eloquence as did the Greeks. 
They lived in a tropical climate where warm and 
quick passions are nurtured. Theirs was the land of 
the orange and the olive — a pure atmosphere and 
balmy breezes. Their language, too, was the mo^_ 
accurate, comprehensive, and beautiful that has ever 
been invented by the ingenuity of man ; capable of 
expressing the profound conceptions of Plato, the 
most accurate and exact rules of Aristotle, the re- 
sistless eloquence of Demosthenes, the playful fancies 
of Anacreon, and the liquid strains of Pindar. The 
art of printing among them was unknown ; the free- 
dom ot speech was unbounded ; and the passion of the 
people was to hear news, and witness theatrical per- 
formances. No wonder that eloquence among them 
had such unbounded sway. The Athenian assem- 
blies were stormy and tumultuous, and Athenian 
oratory was of a corresponding character. Laws 
were made and public ordinances passed by the voice 
of the whole people. It will be readily perceived 
that such a deliberative body would be liable to 
be deceived and duped by the artful and designing 
demagogue, who possessed in an eminent degree the 



118 THE POWER OF 

Themistocles successful. Aristides banished. 

power of forensic eloquence. But what lias been the 
judgment of succeeding ages respecting Athenian 
statesmen? The glorj has not been awarded to him 
who best succeeded, but to him who best deserved 
success. The wranghng orator who sought for per- 
sonal advancement, and opened unprovoked attacks 
upon the wise and virtuous to secure their banish- 
ment, has merited and received the scorn of all 
^acceeding times; while he who was firm in his 
attachment to the prosperity of his country, and who 
would rather submit to banishment or even death 
than compromise its honor or his own veracity, has 
always been held in grateful remembrance. The 
demagogue may be successful for a time, and the 
good man may suffer deep wrong. But these cir- 
cumstances only make us more thoroughly despise 
the former, and bind to our hearts more firmly the 
latter. Themistocles was eminently successful. Yet 
we never pronounce his name without thinking that 
he was a deep, designing politician, who was ever 
working to secure to himself some political end. But 
Aristides will ever be loved and venerated; and 
though he is banished from his country by the in- 
trigues of Themistocles, and by those who were tired 
of bearing him called ^' the just;" yet as he steps 
upon the trireme that is to bear him away into ban- 
ishment, he can drop a tear of pity for his enemies, 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 119 

Kemark of Sir Joshua Eeynolds to Mr. Burke. 

and offer a prayer to the gods for the protection and 
prosperity of his native city, — that city for whose 
glory he had toiled so long and sacrificed so much. 

When we see the blackness and perfidy that is 
Avrapped np in the breast of Catiline, who does not 
tremble for the fate of Kome, and grow indignant 
over the story of this heartless villain ? But will not 
those noble sentiments that burst forth from the soul 
of Cicero, make us better citizens and greater lovers 
of country? admirers not more of the beauty, ele- 
gance and resistless power of his eloquence, than the 
courage and fearless honesty of his heart ? We scorn 
those tribunes who flattered the people with the prom- 
ise of securing some lights for the public good, and 
when power was firmly in their grasp turned a 
haughty look upon the plebeians. But when we re- 
member the honesty and devotion of Fabricius, and 
the noble death of Cato, it is pleasant to think that 
such men have lived. 

Sir Joshua Eeynolds once made the following re- 
mark to Mr. Burke : " I do not mean to flatter you, 
Mr Burke, but when posterity reads one of your 
speeches in Parliament, it will be difiicult to beheve 
you took so much pains, knowing with certainty, as 
you did, that it could produce no effect, that not one 
vote would be gained by it." *' Waiving your com- 
pliment to me," was the reply, " I shall say in general 



120 THE POWER OF 

Confederated republic. Liberty of tlie orator. 

that it is verj well worth while for a man to take 
pains to speak well in Parliament. And if a man 
speaks well, he gradually establishes a certain repu- 
tation and consequence in the general opinion, which 
sooner or later will have its political rewards. Be- 
sides, though not one vote is gained, a good speech 
has its effect. The bill you oppose may pass into a 
law, , but it will be modified and softened by it." 

This little fragment of personal remark opens to 
our view the heart of the great statesman. We dis- 
cover that principle in his character upon which he 
was willing to stake his reputation. It was not the 
rule of mere expediency, or party triumph, or per- 
sonal advancement upon which he acted. But deep 
and unyielding devotion to those principles which in 
his judgment were right, a fixedness of purpose 
which no circumstance could change, obedience to 
conscientious conviction that no hope of reward could 
alter, were the elements which gave luster to the char- 
acter of him who is the pride of British statesmen and 
civilians, and which will entwine about the name of 
Burke in perennial beauty. 

In some respects civil society among us is similar 
to what it was among the Grreeks. Ours is a confed- 
erated republic, and with us, as with the Greeks, the 
orator is at liberty to think what he pleases and speak 
what he thinks. Successful oratory is in high repute. 



SPOKEN THOUGHT. 121 

Our nation. Its destiny. 

We pay great deference to the man who affects and 
moves us by the expression of his opinions. We are 
therefore, like the Greeks, as a people, liable to be de- 
ceived by him who has a false heart and a persuasive 
tongue. In many respects the prospects before our 
nation are flattering. It occupies the fairest portion 
of this western continent. It is situated in the most 
beautiful and productive region of the whole earth. 
It has ample territory, and boundless resources. For 
beauty and grandeur of scenery, salubrity of air, and 
serenity of sky, it is not surpassed. Its people are of 
that stock who are ever restless and unsatisfied. The 
arts eminently flourish. Intellectual culture is duly 
appreciated and patronized. But, alas for its fate 
if wicked men are suffered to control its destiny ! 
Heaven grant that wisdom may direct, that virtue 
may prevail I 



LECTURE ly. 

VOCAL CULTURE. 

ACOERECT and ready elocution can not be 
overvalued in a system of education. Speech 
is that one of our faculties which is in almost con- 
stant use. From the artless prattle of infancy to 
the last trembling accents of age, the voice rarely 
remains long unused. If it be employed for the 
purpose of public speaking, there is special need 
of a happy and effective utterance. But even in 
ordinary conversation it is pleasant to hear a mu- 
sical voice equally removed from ignorant vulgar- 
ity and studied affectation. It is exhilarating to feel 
in the tone, the sentiments that glow in the mind 
of him who addresses us. An easy elocution is 
among the first of accomplishments, because it is 
one which constantly shows. They who labor so 
assiduously to maintain a claim to aristocracy in 
manners and dress should not neglect this. 

When we speak, it is our object to convey to the 
minds of others the thoughts which we have in our 
own minds. We may fail to effect this purpose, 



VOCAL CULTURE. 123 

Tone repulsive. True idea of reading. 

either wliollj or in part, from a defective or care- 
less habit of Titterance. We receive and retain the 
thoughts of some persons, because of the pleasant 
and striking style in which they are spoken, and we 
forget what another has said before he has done 
speaking, because his style of address is so repulsive 
and bunghng. If w,e gain the attention of the one 
we address and his mind is in a receptive state, still 
we may fail to make him feel the force of a thought 
as we do, because we have not the faculty of throw- 
ing it fully into the words we speak. We have all 
observed that there is music, a magic in some voices 
that is charming and attractive, while others are 
capable of blunting our perceptions and forcing us 
to close our ears. 

If we read aloud what another has written, the 
task becomes more difficult ; for in addition to what 
has been named above, we have to learn and ap- 
preciate what was the idea of the author. Eeading 
consists in conveying to the minds of those who 
listen, the thought as it originally existed in the 
mind of him who wrote it. If we fail to understand 
and fully appreciate the meaning of the piece as we 
proceed, then we do not read, but simply call words 
like the parrot. If we have a correct understanding 
of it, but still fail to communicate it by the words 
we use, then we do not read in the proper accep- 



124 VOCAL CULTURE. 

Imitation. False habits. 

tation of that term. The requisites for reading are 
an appreciation ~of the thought of the author, and a 
correct and effective elocution which enables us to 
convey that thought to the hearer. 

The first knowledge of the use of the voice we 
acquire by imitation. The child, before it is old 
enough to talk, will express its ideas by a correct 
modulation. In youthful play and sport we rarely 
hear an incorrect inflection, and if the example has 
been good scarcely a principle of elocution will be 
violated. But when the child learns its letters, and 
then to combine those letters into words, it usually 
fails to understand and appreciate the thought, and 
consequently fails to communicate it. Eeading, ac- 
cording to the conception of the child, is a process of 
calling words more or less rapidily, and stopping to 
spell out only the more difficult ones. The habit is 
formed of reading and speaking in a set, measured 
tone, without any reference to the sense, and ob- 
serving none of the principles of inflection and in- 
tonation which were in infancy correctly learned. 
As the boy grows up he often indulges in animated 
and impassioned conversation, and by using lan- 
guage rapidly and without care, the very bad prac- 
tice is indulged of omitting many sounds, and of 
obscuring others, and the habit is soon formed of 
incorrect and imperfect articulation. 



VOCAL CULTUEE. 125 

Object of elocution. Enunciation. 

The object of vocal culture or elocution is to 
break up false habits and to establisb those which 
are correct, and to arouse the emotional nature of 
the reader to a just conception of the thought to be 
communicated. It is not the province of this science 
to create an emotional nature, but simply to awaken 
and direct that which already exists. It can not 
bestow on the voice any new elements of power ; 
but it may give to those which we have a new vital 
force by unburdening them of many false habits and 
imparting skill in correct ones. 

In a systematic course of vocal culture, it is neces- 
sary to give attention, in the first place, to enuncia- 
tion and pronunciation. It would be time lost to 
attempt to cultivate expression before the elements 
of expression have been corrected. A class in al- 
most any academy or college, will illustrate the 
variety of habits to which they have been accus- 
tomed. A sentence of ten words may not be prop- 
erly read by any one of them, and yet no two may 
have made the same mistake. It requires on the 
part of the teacher a quick and nice sense in detect- 
ing errors, and the power of imitating them, that the 
force of the criticism may be appreciated. It is only 
by a thorough drill that errors of long standing can 
be broken up, and that correct habits can be firmly 
fixed. The omitting or obscuring the consonant K, 



126 VOCAL CULTURE. 

The Scotch. Habit of the French. Pronunciation. 

is one of the most common mistakes. The K should 
not be made so prominent and trilled as it is hj the 
Scotch, but it should be full and distinct. It is an 
extremely pleasant sound when correctly given. It 
is one of the liquids, and adds much to the beauty 
and melody of a sentence. The consonant S is an- 
other of those letters that commonly receives very 
harsh usage. It has a soft, flute-like sound that is 
very agreeable. But most public speakers, and al- 
most every one in conversation, substitute for this, 
a rough harsh one that tears the ear. The French 
exercise the greatest care in uttering all their nice 
and pleasant sounds, that they may produce by 
means of them a favorable effect. But we as a 
nation are unmindful of the rich treasury of the 
nicest and most exquisite elements in which our 
language abounds. 

Pronunciation is not a matter which strictly per- 
tains to vocal culture, and yet it can not be neglected. 
The standard of pronunciation, is the usage of that 
class of society the most refined by mental culture. 
There are provinciaHsms, and the style of speaking 
in different cities, which may prevail even in the best 
cultivated circles. But local peculiarities should be 
discarded. A dictionary is usually considered the 
standard ; but it can not be authority unless it give 
what is good usage. A dictionary based upon any 



VOCAL CULTURE. 127 

Tongues of many nations. Pitcli and inflection. 

other plan than that of detailing present usage is 
worthless. The lexicographer can not make laws for 
language. But he must be the faithful chronicler of 
the custom of our best speakers. That dictionary 
should therefore be used, which most strictly con- 
forms to this principle. The slightest variation of 
sounds from true pronunciation should be promptly 
corrected, and pupils should be taught to distinguish 
the errors to which they are liable with the nicest 
perception of what is coiTCct, so that they may soon 
acquire the habit of watching with critical care every 
sound that escapes their lips. The child inherits 
many errors in pronunciation. Our population is so 
heterogeneous, being made up of representatives from 
almost every nation on the globe, that we not un- 
frequently find in the same school a variety of pecu- 
liarities traceable to the language of the people from 
which the family has descended. The greatest care 
on the part of the teacher is therefore needed. These 
peculiarities are to be dispelled, and the tongues of 
all nations made to blend in harmonious English, or, 
if you choose, American. 

Pitch and inflection should next receive our at- 
tention. The best place for a boy to learn these is 
upon the play-ground. During a single intermission, 
a company of lads will give expression to almost 
every variety of pitch and inflection known to elo- 



128 VOCAL CULTURE. 

Tones in the class. Night soliloquy in Venice. 

cutionists. In the exuberance of youthful feeling, 
and the contentions for their privileges and rights, 
thej have occasion to utter thoughts and emotions 
of every shade and degree, 

" From grave to gay, from lively to severe." 

In general these intonations will be correct. The 
feelings one cherishes, naturally prompt to a proper 
expression of them. But those same boys, at the 
call of the bell, will enter the school room and read 
a lesson from their books in their " reading tone," 
entirely different from that which they so appro- 
priately used upon the play-ground. They observe 
the pauses, and give inflections according to some 
spelling-book rule, regardless of the sentiment to be 
communicated and the emotions which it is intended 
to awaken. They have an abundance of tones at 
command when surrounded by their companions, but 
when they have taken their places in the class, their 
command of voice forsakes them, and they have only 
one pitch for every variety of thought. There is 
a monotonous tone, uninterrupted by any species 
of modulation, which is characteristic of most youth 
at some period, and which many never abandon. 
Whether the sentiment be intended to awaken peace- 
ful and gentle thoughts, like the words of Lioni in 
the night soliloquy in Yenice : 



VOCAL CULTURE. 129 

"Words of Brutus. Dialogue for practice. 

" All is gentle : nought 
Stirs rudely ; but congenial with the night, 
Whatever walks, is gliding like a spirit ;" 

or, bold and defiant as the language of Brutus^ when 
chafed by the testy spirit of his friend : 

" Fret, till your proud heart break — 
Go show your slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your bondmen tremble ;" 

it is all read to the same pitch, and upon that same 
•unvarying tone. The spelling-book has made it his 
duty to keep the voice up at a comma, and to let it 
fall at a period, and to this he religiously adheres 
through all the storms of passion, and the peace and 
quiet of a summer evening and moonlight hours — 
through the wild shouts of "sentries' shriek," the 
clang of arms and the torrent's roar, or the gentle rip- 
pling of the brook and the soft sighing of the breeze. 
To break up false habits and establish correct ones, 
can most easily be accomplished by employing for 
practice that species of composition which the pupils 
are accustomed to use in conversation, and which 
they naturally use correctly. If the scholar reads 
with an unnatural and drawling tone, let the teacher 
copy upon the blackboard a little fragment of talk 
which he has overheard in passing the play*ground, 
and let that be the lesson. By the reading of a fa- 
miliar conversation, and giving the correct, the nat- 

6* 



130 VOCAL CULTURE. 

Advantages. Calling words, not reading. Khetorical thought, 

Ural inflections and intonations, the identity of con- 
versing and reading, of speaking and declaiming is 
established. For this reason, dialogue, carefully and 
correctly read, has great advantages over any other 
kind of composition. It is not well for a class to 
read continually in course. Those passages should 
be selected which illustrate the particular branch of 
elocution upon which instruction is being given. It 
is a great mistake, which many of our teachers make, 
in allowing their pupils to read on, piece after piece, 
day after day, as the squirrel turns the wheel of his 
cage, knowing no object or end, and only correcting 
the- words called wrong ; as though the calling of 
words were reading. A single passage thoroughly 
understood and correctly practiced may be of more 
service than carelessly calling the words of many 
pages. For the reading of that exercise is a pattern 
by which all others may be read of that class. A 
few such passages cover the whole ground of what 
is termed by elocutionists rhetorical thought, and he 
who has once mastered these is in the proper way to 
improvement. 

"We would not be understood by these remarks 
to discard extensive practice. The calling of words 
readily is the basis of good reading, and the pupil 
needs much exercise in acquiring the habit. But if 
lie first understand the meaning of the words he 



VOCAL CULTURE. 131 

Final object of vocal culture. 

calls, and enters fully into the spirit of tlie thonght, 
the way, instead of being barren and gloomy^ is joy- 
ous and delightful, cheered by the odors of flowers, 
the music of the grove and the companionship of 
nature, living aod animated. A word whose mean- 
ing he knows and whose force he appreciates, is 
at once remembered, and is ever after hailed with 
familiarity; whereas a word or phrase which he 
fails to understand, is encountered a thousand times 
with the same vacant stare. We need reading 
books so graded and suited to the wants of scholars, 
that at every stage the pupil may have something 
adapted to his capacity and capable of interesting 
him. He can then appreciate the value of inton- 
ation in communicating thought, can practice calling 
words understandingly, and much time may be 
saved. 

The final object of vocal culture is to make our 
reading and speaking effective. It may not make 
every one equally impressive, but no one can doubt 
that careful training improves the utterance of all. 
The proper modulation of the voice, adapting it to the 
sentiment and the emotions it is capable of awaken- 
ing, and sustaining the tone with the proper degree 
of force and energy, may be to a person a source of 
very great power. The child, by a natural gift and 
by imitation, may learn many pieces of music. Its 



182 VOCAL CULTURE. 

Puerile performance. The minstrel. Yalue of culture to the singer. 

performances may be touching and pathetic and he 
tolerably correct, yet the lack of systematic culture 
in giving power and expression is at once detected, 
and the singing is pronounced puerile. In reading, 
as in music, it requires much practice to acquire 
great skill. The minstrel made many a disgraceful 
failure and discordant sound, and long 

" Amid the strings his fingers strayed, 
And an uncertain warbling made," 

before the hand had caught the cunning of the art, 
and 

" In varying cadence, soft or strong, 
He swept the sounding chords along." 

"What culture can do for the singer, it can also do 
for the reader and the speaker. It requires many 
lessons to teach a singer to open his mouth. He 
must know the value of a full round volume of 
voice, of loud and heavy strains, and of those which 
are soft and light. He must with many tedious 
strokes beat the air to right and left, and up and 
down, and with exactness measure time. It is 
equally necessary that the person who would read 
well should learn the use of all these elements, for 
it is these that give the speaker the command of 
force and power. 

The value of systematic culture to the singer is 
now generally felt and appreciated. We have mu- 



VOCAL CULTURE. 133 

Jenny Lind. Admiring multitudes. Elements of her success. 

sical festivals and conventions, in wliicTi it is the busi- 
ness of the conductor to train the voices of the mem- 
bers in expression, to draw out those powers which 
have never been reached by the ordinary course of 
instruction. An impulse was given to the progress 
of this noble science by the visit of Jenny Lind to 
this country. The power which the human voice 
may be made to exert upon the mind when duly 
cultivated was admirably illustrated in her perform- 
ances. Wherever she sang, crowds pressed to hear 
her. Sums of money, which for almost any other 
purpose would have been considered the height of 
extravagance, were freely paid. Captivated by those 
bewitching charms of voice which she displayed, 
breathless thousands gazed and listened with delight. 
Such wealth of variety, such melody of utterance, 
such sweetness of tone, and the inimitable command 
of the most delicate expression, is the rare attain- 
ment of mortals. Her songs, — at times mild as the 
morning zephyr, playful as the twitter of the swal- 
low, soft as the cooing of the dove, at others wild 
and piercing as the shrieks which express the fancies 
that revel in the wild girl's brain, — summoned from 
almost every city in our nation delighted and admir- 
ing multitudes. 

It is difficult to comprehend how it is possible for 
a mortal spirit to exert such unbounded sway. The 



184 VOCAL CULTURE. 



Her devotion. 



secret will be found in the elaborate cultivation of 
tbe faculties to which her early life was given. 
Those melting tones did not burst spontaneous from, 
her lips. It was not instinctive utterance, like the 
song of the young nightingale that for the first time 
opes its tender throat. That capacity which she 
possesses is the fruit of long hours of weariness 
and toil. Practice and unceasing effort were the 
elements of her success and enviable fame. While 
her young companions threaded the streets, or dozed 
upon their pillows, she was 

" at her work and her stem hours." 

Gifted by nature with a delicate ear, all those tones 
unusually sweet, expressive and forcible, which had 
pleased her youthful fancy, still lingered in her mind, 
and when alone with her worn instruments of sound, 
she varied, combined, and practiced them till the 
pallor of her cheek spoke her devotion, and her 
wasted energies cried for relaxation from intensity 
of toil. With a diligence scarcely paralleled, she 
pursued the vocation which she loved, till she drew 
forth from that voice of unknown and unmeasured 
power, her matchless songs 

" In notes, with many a winding bout 
Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 



VOCAL CULTURE. 135 

Hungary's exilo. His stirring eloquence. 

"With wanton heed and giddy cunning, 
The melting voice through mazes running, 
Untwisting all the chains that tie 
The hidden soul of harmony." 

The counterpart of the visit of Jenny Lind to 
this country, was that of Hungary's unfortunate 
exile. Both, were eminent examples of the power 
which the human voice is capable of displaying. 
Song was the instrument of the one, eloquence of 
the other. It was not the novelty of seeing and of 
hearing a foreigner, or merely sympathy for him in 
his misfortune, that drew crowds of our nation's 
proudest sons about him. But it was the resistless 
power of his eloquence — that marshaling of words 
into harmonious phrase which captivated the soul of 
the hearer — those bursts of passion for the rights 
of the injured and the oppressed — those withering 
words of satire, and exclamations of reproach and 
denunciation against the oppressor's wrong and the 
"proud man's contumely," which, could they have 
heard who had been guilty of grinding out with iron 
heel the last life spark of his native land, would have 
inspired the vain attempt to stifle the workings of 
their coward consciences, and caused 

" Their knotted and combined locks to part." 

The young and the old, the grave and the gay 
everywhere, who heard, universally feel and express 



136 VOCAL CULTURE. 

An English grammar and a Shakspeare. 

a satisfaction that it has been their fortune to have 
listened to those miraculous displays of eloquence 
which were exhibited by that unfortunate exile. His 
progress through this country was a triumph, prouder 
than that of a conqueror. It was a triumph of elo- 
quence ! A triumph of one mind over many minds ! 
A triumph of the tongue ! Nor was this the spon- 
taneous and natural outburst of untutored, unbridled 
genius. It was the fruit of long, lonely hours of 
weariness and toil in the dungeons of his enemies. 
In a cold prison house, in a damp cell, with no books 
but an English grammar and a Shakspeare, he caught 
the inspiring breath of eloquence. There he famil- 
iarized himself with words of power and energy and 
might. During those dark and dismal hours, he 
gained the rudiments of the English tongue; and 
those conceptions, — endued with such pathos and sub- 
limity as alone characterize the spirit of the great 
Englist bard, and which were so congenial to his 
own, — were the "studies" of his repeated brilliant 
efforts. 

The objection is urged by some to any attempt at 
vocal training, on the ground that it induces an arti- 
ficial and affected style of speaking. The principles 
of elocution are all discarded, and the rules for the 
government of the voice, and the notation for its 
guidance which are employed in many elementary 



VOCAL CULTURE. 187 

Objection to culture. Experience of Demosthenes. 

reading books are wholly rejected. It is repulsive to 
many to hear the word culture in connection with 
that of oratory. It is more congenial to think of the 
orator as a genius, to believe him, like the poet, 
"born, not made." But such was not the experience 
of Demosthenes, beyond comparison the greatest or- 
ator of all ancient times. Without culture he was 
awkward and -unnatural in his manners when speak- 
ing. He had the habit of throwing one shoulder 
higher than the other. The features of his face were 
distorted into unseemly grimaces. He stammered, and 
his voice was small and feeble. It would seem dis- 
heartening for a man with all these physical defects 
to attempt to excel in eloquence. Yet by systematic 
training, these seeming insurmountable obstacles* 



* "When Demosthenes was about sixteen years of age his curiosity 
was attracted by a trial in which Callistratus pleaded and won a cause 
of considerable importance. The eloquence which procured and the 
acclamations which followed his success, so inflamed the young Athe- 
nian, that he determined to devote himself thenceforward to the 
assiduous study of oratory. At the age of seventeen he appeared before 
the pubhc tribunals, and pronounced against his faithless guardians, 
and against a debtor to his father's estate, five orations which were 
crowned -vvith complete success. These discourses, in all probability, 
had received the finishing touches from Isaas, under whom Demos- 
thenes continued to study for the space of four years after he had 
reached bis majority. An opening so brilliantly successful, embold- 
ened the young orator, as may weU be supposed, to speak before the 
people ; but when he made the attempt, his feeble and stammering 
voice, his interrupted respiration, his ungraceful gestures, and hia ill 



138 VOCAL CULTURE. 

Physical defects. Overcome by culture. 

were overcome, and he rose to the first place in elo- 
quence. His industry in breaking up bad habits, 
and in learning and cultivating correct ones, is such 

arranged periods, "brought upon him general ridicule. Returning home 
in the utmost distress, he was reanimated by the kind aid of the actor 
Satyrus, who, having requested Demosthenes to repeat some passage 
from a dramatic poet, pronounced the same extract after him, with so 
much correctness of enunciation and in a manner so true to nature, 
that it appeared to the young orator to he quite another passage. Con- 
vinced, thereupon, how much grace and persuasive power, a proper 
enunciation and manner added to the best oration, he resolved to cor- 
rect the deficiencies of his youth, and accomplished this with a zeal and 
a perseverance which have passed into a proverb. How deeply he 
commands our respect and admiration by his struggles to overcome 
his natural infirmities, and remove the impressions produced by his first 
appearance before his assembled countrymen ! He was not indebted 
for the glory he acquired either to the bounty of nature or the favor 
of circumstances, but to the inherent strength of his own unconquer- 
able will. To free himself from stammering, he spoke with pebbles in 
his mouth, a report resting on the authority of Demetrius Phalerius, 
his contemporary. It also appeared that he was unable to articulate 
clearly the letter R, but he vanquished that difficulty most perfectly; 
for Cicero, says, " exercitatione fecisse ut plenissime diceret." He 
removed the distortion of features, which accompanied his utterance, 
by watching the movements of his countenance in a mirror ; and a 
naked sword was suspended over his left shoulder while ho was de- 
claiming in private, to prevent its rising above the level of the right. 
That his enunciation might be loud and full of emphasis, he frequently 
ran up the steepest and most uneven walks, an exercise by which his 
voice acquired both force and energy ; and on the sea shore, when the 
waves were violently agitated, he declaimed aloud, to accustom him- 
self to the noise and tumult of a public assembly. He constructed a 
subterranean study, where he would often stay two or three months 
together, shaving one side of his head, that, in case he should wish to 



VOCAL CULTURE. 139 

Copying Tbucydides. Cultivation of manners. 

as we always find associated with eminent success. 
The idea, that great ability is independent of faithful 
industry in accomplishing great results, is a relic of 
superstition which the light of a wiser faith has not 
wholly dissipated. The same argument, which is 
brought against the cultivation of the voice, might 
with equal propriety be urged against the cultivation 
of manners. It being desirable that our children 
should possess easy and natural habits of address, 
we might expect by this process of reasoning, that 
neglect would be the surest means of attaining this 
end. The absurdity of such a conclusion becomes 
apparent upon a moment's reflection. 



go abroad, the shame of appearing in that condition might keep him 
within. In this solitary retreat, by the light of his lamp, he copied, 
and recopied, ten times at least, the orations scattered throughout the 
history of Thucydides, for the purpose of moulding his own style after 
so pure a model. Whatever may be the truth of these several reports, 
Demosthenes got credit for the most indefatigable labor in the acquisi- 
tion of his art. His enemies at a subsequent period of his career, at- 
tempted to ridicule this extraordinary industry, by remarking that all 
his arguments "smelt of the lamp," and they eagerly embraced the 
opportunity of denying him the possession of natural talents. A ma- 
licious opinion like this would easily find credit ; for, since it is ac- 
knowledged on all hands, that all successful men who are naturally 
dull must be industrious, the converse of the proposition grows into 
repute, and it is inferred that all men who are hadustrious must be 
dull. The accusation against Demosthenes seems to have rested 
chiefly on his known reluctance to speak without preparation. — An- 
thongs Article, Demosthenes. 



140 VOCAL CULTURE. 

A rustic lad. Introduction to company. Ease the result of culture. 

Transfer a rustic lad who has never seen much of 
life and society, but the disorderly kitchen scenes in 
a log cabin, and whose most familiar acquaintance 
extends only to his implements of husbandry, dressed 
in his best sheep's-grey, to a nice drawing-room 
where cultivated society is assembled, and the trepi- 
dation which he evinces and the awkwardness which 
characterizes every movement, show in his entire de- 
portment and in every feature of his countenance 
the embarassment by which he is oppressed. His 
face glows with confusion, his hands instinctively 
seek the pockets, and his legs tremble and smite 
against each other as though they too would seek 
a place of concealment. In this picture we have 
none of the effects of culture. Nothing is artificial. 
It is the action of a spirit "under the simple teachings 
of nature. But how is it with the boy who has been 
carefully instructed in the principles of good breed- 
ing, and in the practice of the best society ? His 
deportment in company does not attract attention. 
His manners seem to set easily upon him. K he is 
introduced into a gentleman's drawing-room, he ad- 
vances with an elastic step, and salutes the company 
with modest grace. His manners are pronounced 
easy and natural. But it is that kind of naturalness 
which is acquired by care and culture. It is the ease 
which flows from unremitting attention to the cor- 



VOCAL CULTURE. 141 

Sentiment of Pope. The athleta;. National games. 

rection of errors, and tlie improvement of habits 
whicli nature has ungraciously imposed upon us. It 
is that ease, which though originally the effect of 
discipline, when it has once become habitual, has a 
more natural appearance than any movement which 
untutored nature can produce. The sentiment of 
Pope, 

"That ease in writing flows from art, not chance," 

is equally true of manners, and of every accomplish- 
ment which we esteem. 

The same principles are applicable to vocal cul- 
ture. That ease and naturalness of expression which, 
we so much admire in eloquence and in common, 
conversation, is usually the result of careful culture, 
and that which seems the artless flow of language is 
itself the result of art. Our physical natures are 
subject to the same laws. Culture produces power. 
The athletse, who contended for the prize in the 
great national games of Grreece, understood its value 
and gave their lives to preparation. And he who 
engaged in the contests, soon learned that it was the 
boxer who had acquired most skill, and not the one 
who had the most brute force, who could deal the 
blow with the greatest effect. Every fact and every 
analogy teach us that culture of the voice, study 
of correct habits, admiration of the best models, and 



142 VOCAL CULTURE. 

Feel the spirit of -what we utter. 

persistence in practice, will be rewarded witli their 
legitimate fruits. Demosthenes by the sea shore, 
with the pebbles in his mouth, or clambering up 
the steep of some beetling cliff, or by his lonely 
lamp in his secluded cell, are world-renowned ex- 
amples of devotion to eloquence, which will ever be 
connected with the merited success of that immortal 
orator. 

In a piece which embraces many of the principles 
of rhetorical reading^ there is special necessity of 
being able to enter into the spirit of it. It is im- 
possible for us to read properly and with effect, that 
which we do not understand. There is no culture 
of the voice that can be of any avail, until we fully 
appreciate this principle. It has been observed, in 
the early part of this lecture, that reading or delivery 
consisted in communicating by the tones of the voice 
the thought as it was conceived by the author. The 
first object then to be accomplished is to become 
fully imbued with the thought and spirit of the 
writer. The voice at once indicates whether we feel 
intensely or not. An audience readily detect if we 
earnestly mean what we say. If then the voice so 
readily betrays the state of the feelings, it is of im- 
portance, in order to make it effective, that we study 
to place ourselves in the position of the writer. 
"When we properly appreciate the opinions we utter, 



VOCAL CULTURE. 143 

First three requisites of oratory. Delivery. Fielding. 

it inspires the wliole person, and makes every look 
and feature speak for ns. Demosthenes felt the 
force of this truth, for when asked what in his opin- 
ion was the first requisite in oratory, he replied de- 
livery. And when asked what were the second and 
the third requisites, he made the same answer. 
Without doubt one of the principal elements of his 
success was his ability to enter fully into the spirit of 
what he said, of feeling with all the intensity of his 
nature those thoughts which he meditated with such 
elaborate care. 

In thiis, probably, consisted the great power of Mr. 
Garrick. It is safe to say that he never made an 
audience intensely feel that which he did not first in- 
tensely feel himself. Tragedy is the highest order 
of rhetorical reading, and no person can properly 
read or speak it, till he feels the passions that fired 
the bosoms of the persons represented. Fielding, 
that faithful delineator of character, has aptly repre- 
sented the efiect of Mr. Garrick's speaking upon the 
common mind, in that passage in his " Tom Jones" 
in which Jones and Mrs. Miller are represented as 
taking Partridge, a young man from the country, to 
hear Garrick in the character of Hamlet. 

" Partridge gave that character to Mr. Garrick 
which he had denied to Jones, and fell into so vio- 
lent a tremblinof that his knees knocked ap:ainst each 



144 VOCAL CULTURE. 

Tom Jones and Mrs. Miller. Partridge at the theater. 

otber. Jones asked Mm what was tlae matter, and 
whether he was^ afraid of the warrior upon the stage. 

* O, la, sir,' said he, ' I perceive now it is what you 
told me. I am not afraid of any thing, for I know it 
is but a play ; and if it was really a ghost, it could 
do one no harm, at such a distance and in so much 
company ; and yet, if I was frightened, I am not the 
only j)erson.' ^ Why, who,' cries Jones, * dost thou 
take to be such a coward here, besides thyself?' 

* Nay, an you may call me coward, if you will ; but 
if that little man there, upon the stage, is not fright- 
ened, I never saw any man frightened in my life.' . . . 
Partridge sat with his eyes partly fixed on the ghost, 
and partly on Hamlet, and with his mouth open; 
the same passions that succeeded each other in Ham- 
let, succeeded likewise in him. 

" At the conclusion of the scene. Partridge says to 
Jones, ' It is natural to be surprised at such things, 
though I know there is nothing in them ; not that it 
was the ghost that surprised me neither ; but when 
I saw the little man so frightened himself, it was that 
which took hold of me.' ' And dost thou imagine, 
then,' cries Jones, 'that he was really frightened?' 
'Nay, sir,' said Partridge, 'did not you yourself ob- 
serve afterwards, when he found it was his own fath- 
er's spirit, how his fear forsook him by degrees, 
and he was struck dumb with sorrow, as it were, 



VOCAL CULTUKE. 145 

His opinion of an actor. 

just as I should have been, had it been my own 
case.' 

'' Little more worth remembering occurred during 
the plaj, at the end of which, Jones asked him 
which of the players he liked best. To this, he an- 
swered, with some appearance of indignation, ' The 
king, without doubt.' 'Indeed I' answered Mrs. Mil- 
ler, ' you are not of the same opinion as the town ; 
for they are all agreed that Hamlet is acted by the 
best player that was ever on the stage.' 'He the 
best player I' cries Partridge, with a contemptuous 
sneer ; ' why, I could act as well as he myself. I am 
sure if I had seen a ghost, I should have looked in 
the very same manner, and done just as he did. 
And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it, 
between him and his mother, where you told me he 
acted so fine, why. Lord help me, any man — that is, 
any good man, that had such a mother, would have 
done exactly the same. I know you are only jok- 
ing, madam ; though I never was at a play in Lon- 
don, yet I have seen acting before, in the country ; 
and the king for my money ; he speaks all his words 
distinctly, and half as loud again as the other. Any- 
body may see he is an actor.' " 

In this excellent representation of character, is seen 
the effect produced upon the ingenuous mind, by one 

who successfully enters into the spirit of what he says ; 

7 



146 VOCAL CULTURE. 

The speaking of Garrick. Partridge as a critic 



wlio exhibits the same feeling and passion which 
would be produced upon one who should meet in 
real life what he experiences in the play. In this 
art, Garrick preeminently excelled. In his speaking, 
we see the effect of personating with fidelity the 
character which he represents. His words, the tones 
of his voice in harmony with the look, the features, 
the whole person, speak to us, and we are made 
to feel all the emotions that succeed each other in 
his mind, as the great poet himself first conceived 
them. Partridge, in the simplicity of his unsophis- 
ticated nature, is unable to keep up the distinction 
between fiction and reality. He trembles when he 
sees the little man upon the stage tremble. Like the 
child who weeps and sobs over the story of the Chil- 
dren in the Wood, he is moved with sorrow, as 
though the play were a passage in real life. For this 
reason, his judgment of the relative merits of the 
speakers is false. To his simple and untutored feel- 
ings, the performer who acts as though every thing 
in the scene were real, seems to him to show no skill 
or art, and exhibits no special excellence deserving 
of praise ; but only speaks just as any one would 
speak who is afraid, or pleased, or angry. But the 
mouthing performer who personates the king, and 
speaks his words half as loud again as the others, 
and is the person whom we never meet in life, is to 



VOCAL CULTURE. 147 

Skill. Masterpieces of eloquence. 

him tlie great actor. The agitation and trembling of 
Partridge are a lasting tribute to the eloquence and 
power of Mr. Garrick ; but his criticisms must ever 
excite merriment for their simplicity. 

We learn from this illustration, that to enter into 
the spirit of what we say, requires no seeming effort, 
but, on the contrary, the greatest ease. If culture 
of the voice induces a style like that displayed by 
the performer of the king's part, it can not be too 
much despised and discarded. To one who has not 
a mind capable of understanding the thought and 
feeling of an author, vocal training may produce 
this effect. The culture which we have advocated is 
not the universal panacea for imperfect delivery. It 
only operates favorably upon those who have souls 
to appreciate feeling and beauty. If it be made to 
serve as the curb to our passions, if it enables us 
to bring the voice, with all its energy and power, un- 
der complete control of a correct taste, if it yield us 
that fruit which is denominated skill, then it deserves 
our highest commendation. 

It should be the aim in all our practice, to secure 
ease and simplicity in the style of speaking. Some 
of the greatest efforts of human genius, which are 
looked upon as masterpieces of eloquence, are con- 
ceived in the plainest stjle. Perhaps history fur- 
nishes no better example of the truth of this princi- 



148 VOCAL CULTURE. 

The deatli of Caesar. The bloody mantle. 

pie, than is presented by the poet in the funeral ora- 
tion of Antony over the corpse of Caesar. All Eome 
was in commotion. C93sar had been stabbed, while 
sitting upon his throne in the senate-house in the 
presence of that august assembly, a Koman Senate. 
All business was stopped. The people were filled 
with consternation and horror at the perpetration of 
the bloody deed. Under these circumstances, An- 
tony, the friend of Caesar, carries the dead body, j ust 
as the conspirators had left it, to the forum, and in 
presence of a vast concourse of the people speaks in 
his funeral. He recounts the martial deeds of Caesar, 
and what he has done for the greatness and the glory 
of Eome ; and when he tells them of the love they 
once bore to Caesar, his heart swells and chokes his 
utterance. He descends from the pulpit; raises up 
the dead body of his friend; shows them the rents 
in the bloody mantle ; and tells them of the first time 
ever Caesar put it on. It was a summer^s evening 
in his tent, after that bloody day on which he had 
gained one of those signal victories which were the 
glory and the pride of Eome. He tears aside the 
bloody mantle and 

" Shows them sweet Csesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths, 
And bids them speak for him." 

He teUs them of the will of Cassar, and how he had 



VOCAL CULTUKE. 149 

Orchards on the banks of Tiber. Antony's success. 

remembered the poor people and given them all his 
private walks and arbors, and new planted orchards 
on the banks of Tiber. 

The eflfort is successful. The effect is overwhelm- 
ing. The populace had come rejoicing at the murder 
of Caesar ; they go away bearing his corpse in triumph 
and swearing revenge and death upon the heads of 
th-e conspirators. They came burning with hatred 
and indignation at the very name of Caesar ; they 
go awav with such love and reverence for him, 

" That they would go and kiss dead Cassar's wounds, 
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 
Tea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
And dying, mention it in their wills." 

The elements of his success are apparent. Those 
qualities which have been presented are the basis of 
its merit. This passage in Shakspeare has always 
been admired as a choice specimen of eloquence on 
account of its homely simplicity. The topics are so 
artfully managed and so aptly chosen, that it seems 
to be the spontaneous, unpremeditated expression of 
his feelings. It is perfectly natural, and seems to be 
just what we ourselves would have said under those 
circumstances. And yet it is that kind of natural- 
ness that is the result of art. It is that facility and 
ease, apparently unattended by effort, which we de- 



150 VOCAL CULTUKE. 

Topics aptly chosen. Simplicity. 

nominate skill. It is characterized in all its parts by 
the utmost simplicity. The speaker keeps himself 
entirely out of sight of his hearers. They are not 
aware that he is the agent that moves their feelings. 
Like the glass that brings the star near to us, we are 
unconscious of its presence in our eagerness to view 
the object. He declares, and they believe it, 

" I am no orator as Brutus is ; 
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man 
That love my friend ; 

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
Action nor utterance, nor the power of speech 
To stir men's blood ; I only speak right on. 
And tell you that which you yourselves do know." 

But in that very seeming simplicity of style, and that 
ease and naturalness in the choice of topics, he steals 
away their hearts, and leads them captive wheresoe'er 
he will. He rouses their passions, he nerves them to 
revenge, 

" and puts a tongue 

In every wound of Cassar, that would move 
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny." 

In writing and in manners, the simplicity upon 
which we have dwelt is that quality that is last de- 
veloped. The young composer acquires every other 
element known to rhetoricians before he learns that 
most important one of all, to use simple language in 



VOCAL CULTURE. 151 

Culture of the style, the manners, and the voice. The gift of speech. 

simple style. The youth who begins to move in 
company^ makes many mortifying failures before he 
learns the golden mean between stiff and awkward 
manners, the result of diffidence, and that over-muoh 
politeness which characterizes the egotistic and self- 
satisfied spirit. So in the education of the voice. 
This simplicity and plainness of utterance which 
is always found in our most successful speakers, 
is the last grace of speech to be acquired. 

The elements which we have now noticed, are the 
ones to which careful attention should be given in a 
systematic training of the voice. Speech is among 
the noblest of the gifts which Heaven has been 
pleased to bestow upon man ; and it was not be- 
stowed, as a wily diplomatist has observed, to con- 
ceal our thoughts, but to enable us to hold ingenu- 
ous and delightful communion with each other. It 
is that gift which distinguishes man from all other 
created beings, and enables him to fill up the meas- 
ure of existence with sociality, and thus diversify 
and gladden its otherwise unendurable monotony. 

Ttie limit to the improvement of the voice, like 
that of the mind itself, is indefinite. It is an instru- 
ment of great power and compass, capable of excit- 
ing the most intense grief and ungovernable joy ; of 
electrifying a people with patriotic enthusiasm, and 
of paralyzing the heart with appalling fear; of 



152 VOCAL CULTURE. 

Conclusion. 

touching, as with an unseen hand, sympathies for the 
sorrowing and pitj for distress, and moving the ten- 
derest feelings of maternal love. 

It is the duty of every one to give the voice the 
most careful training. It is a shame for a man to 
possess a gift so inestimable, and not be able, on ac- 
count of a defect in early education, to use it with 
taste and propriety. Its culture should form a prom- 
inent part in the instruction imparted in all our schools. 
It should be constantly subjected during youth to 
that exercise which wiU strengthen it, and should 
not be left to neglect even to the latest years of life. 



LECTURE y. 

THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 

DUKIISrGr the latter part of ttie last century, a club 
of literary gentlemen in London were accus- 
tomed weekly to sup together. From my earliest 
reading, I have always been attracted by the charms 
which seemed to cluster about it. They were brought 
together because their tastes and their attainments 
were congenial. Their learning and discrimination 
were so far superior to 'the society which they en- 
countered in the daily walks of the world, that it 
was cheering to meet with mutual appreciation and 
sympathy. They met for a social interchange of opin- 
ions. They cast, as into a common treasury, the cu- 
riosities of literature which they had chanced to pick 
up in their daily reading. They discussed the mer- 
its of authors. They talked of current events, and 
criticised with unrestrained freedom the measures of 
parties. They read to each other fragments of those 
literary productions upon which they chanced to be 
engaged, and commented upon their beauties and de- 
fects. Sometimes the party was convulsed with mer- 



154 THE STUDY 

Literary club in London. Leading peculiarity. Patterns of English stylo. 

riment, at others it was wrapped in the most pro- 
found attention, as they discoursed of the principles 
of morality, and those sublime truths which exalted 
intellects have searched out. The hours were agree- 
ably varied by the light artillery of wit, and humor, 
and satire, and anon by the heavy ordnance of rea- 
son and solid argumentation. The members of that 
club were men of rare ability. Their writings 
have made and will keep the literature of England 
respectable throughout the world in all coming 
time. 

The leading peculiarity, the crowning excellence 
of this school of literary men, was their great skill 
in the use of language. It is true, they had won dis- 
tinction in their specialties. Every Englishman will 
point with pride to Burke, as the first of English or- 
ators. Johnson is the moralist and the lexicographer. 
Goldsmith is the pleasant bard ; Eeynolds the painter, 
and Garrick the actor. They are not, however, in 
these departments, preeminently models ; but when 
we select for patterns of purity and elegance of 
English style, we unhesitatingly produce the genial 
writings of Goldsmith, the finished periods of John- 
son, and the magnificent speeches of Burke. 

For eminence in conversational power, for social 
entertainment, for enlightened opinions in the vari- 
ous departments of high art, that club has never 



OF LANGUAGE. 155 

Excelled in language. Present tendency. 

been surpassed or equaled. Among its members, 
the acknowledged head was Dr. Johnson. Though 
mingling in social intercourse as equals, he acted 
the monarch. When he essayed to speak, all other 
tongues were silent, and while he had aught to say, 
no other entertainment was desired. This superiority 
was not due to him preeminently for the soundness 
of his opinions ; for his notions were often eccentric, 
and his unconquerable prejudices frequently allured 
him into false positions. But his strength was in his 
great skill in the use of language. The art in which 
he excelled all others, and by which he inspired his 
friends and admirers with respect and reverence, was 
in his power of expression. It enabled him to in- 
vest his thoughts with unusual interest. There was 
a loftiness and a nobility in his style of conversation, 
which his companions could not assume. All his 
thoughts were marked with that peculiar charm 
which the great master painters, by a rare combi- 
nation of colors, give to their pictures. 

The importance of the gift of language, and the 
necessity of its study and cultivation, are frequently 
underrated. In the modern systems of education, 
the attempt is made to treasure up vast stores of 
knowledge, and to ftithoin the intricacies of the 
abstruse sciences at the expense of the study of lan- 
guage. Since the results of the recent researches in 



156 THE STUDY 

To think. To express our thoughts. 

the natural sciences have been published to the 
world, and the unparalleled progress of the arts has 
caused increasing demands for knowledge in prac- 
tical mechanics and civil engineering, the study of 
language has fallen into the background ; and the 
use of the ancient languages as a part of a system 
of academic culture, which has had the countenance 
and approval of a long line of generations, is now 
scouted by many, as a barbarous relic of a bygone 
age. 

The comparative importance of the study of lan- 
guage may be inferred from our wants as intelligent 
and communicative beings. There are two general 
purposes of education — to teach us to think, and to 
express our thoughts. The former is the basis ; for 
if we use language without thought, we either speak 
well by accident, or we speak foolishly and bring 
shame upon ourselves by the use of the gift. The 
latter is equally essential, practically considered ; for 
although we might learn facts and be able to con- 
struct arguments, we could not make use of them in- 
telligibly beyond the narrow limits of our own minds. 
The cattle upon the hills may be burdened with 
many ponderous thoughts, but no one knows of 
them. 

A successfal system of education ministers to our 
wants in both these essentials. The study of the 



OF LANGUAGE. 157 

Objects of inquiry in the natural sciences. Mathematics and logic. 

natural sciences acquaints us with facts. Tliej give 
us knowledge of objects by which we are immedi- 
ately surrounded in nature, and with which we have 
constantly to do in life. Much that is curious and 
wonderful in the designs of the Creator is brought 
to light through the disclosures which they make to 
us. We learn that the air we breathe is composed 
according to the nicest system of weight and meas- 
ure ; that its capacity for moisture, for heat and cold, 
and the more subtle fluids, is subject to fixed and in- 
variable laws ; that the fauna and flora upon the 
surface of the earth, are distributed through the dif- 
ferent parallels of latitude, and the low and high ele- 
vations of the same latitude, upon the law of adap- 
tation ; that there is a correspondence in structure 
between the paw of the lion, the fin of the whale, 
the wing of the bird, and the hand of man. Nothing 
can be more useful or interesting to the human mind 
than such facts as these. They afford us fruitful 
materials for thought and contemplation. We may 
conceive of a human being using no other or higher 
powers of mind than those necessary for investigat- 
ing and recording facts, for noting and observing 
such truths as these we have mentioned, and satis- 
fied with these acquirements. 

If we advance a step further, we come to the math- 
ematics and logic, the latter comprising the theory, 



158 THE STUDY 

Dr. Johnson. 

and the former the practice of the same art. Bj 
these we are taught to use the reasoning faculties in 
passing from the known to the unknown. I have 
said that the natural sciences acquaint us with 
facts. The mathematics make us famihar with the 
process by which we pass from these facts to other 
and new knowledge. When to the faculty of search- 
ing facts, arranging them, and treasuring them as 
data, we add the power of syllogistic reasoning, we 
greatly enlarge the power and capability of the mind, 
and indefinitely extend the field of its operations. 

But if the education to which we trust for the 
formation of our intellectual characters stop here, we 
perceive that it would be decidedly defective. A 
man may acquaint himself with all that has been 
observed in nature, or constructed in art ; he may go 
back in the history of the world to the period of fog 
and vapor, and come on up through the slime and 
mud of the ages ; he may be thoroughly skilled in 
all the processes of reasoning, and be familiar with 
the progress of philosophy and the history of opin- 
ions ; and yet he may be unable to express the re- 
sults of his studies with such taste, precision, and ac- 
curacy as to commend them to the minds of schol- 
ars. Dr. Johnson had no better judgment or more 
sound sense than many men of his own or succeed- 
ing generations ; but his thoughts are embalmed in 



OF LANGUAGE. 159 

Preponderance of the sciences. The Smithsonian Institution. 

the English language, because the style in which he 
has expressed them has met with almost universal 
commendation. 

Hence we conclude that no system of education is 
complete, which does not provide for the successful 
cultivation of language. There seems to be a tend- 
ency in arranging the courses of study in our insti- 
tutions of learning, towards too great a preponder- 
ance of branches in physical inquiry, which are 
dignified by the name of sciences, but which are as 
yet vague and ill-defined. This remark is by no 
means intended to discredit the ardor of research in 
this direction, but to question the propriety of mak- 
ing these inquiries in their crude state the subjects 
for a course of mental discipline. A single illustra- 
tion will show the progress of this tendency. Of the 
patronage which has been bestowed by the Smith- 
sonian Institution "for the diffusion of knowledge 
among men," no considerable portion has ever been 
given for investigation in any other department of 
knowledge than the natural sciences. The whole 
management of the institution has been under the 
control of men who make these sciences their spe- 
cialty. The memoirs of the several competitors have 
been disposed of upon this principle, and the public 
have received, as the yearly contributions of this 
mammoth institution for the "diffusion of knowl- 



160 THE STUDY 

Meager result. Languages excluded. 

edge among men," a single volume of indifferently 
written matter upon the shell-fish of some desert 
shore, or upon the language of a decaying tribe of 
Indians that has no literature, and can have no prac- 
tical value to anybody. The committees of award 
have been selected with an eye to this department 
alone, which would seem to preclude competition in 
any other field of inquiry. If the books which the 
Smithsonian Institution have published should stand 
as an index of the progress of knowledge among 
men for the last ten years, it would show progress in 
only one direction, and a meager result at that. 

The same spirit is manifested in many of our sem- 
inaries of learning. The time formerly given to the 
study of the languages has been shortened, or they 
bave been entirely discarded, and a number of new 
branches in the natural sciences have been intro- 
duced. This latter step may be correct, but the for- 
mer is at least questionable. If in the progress of 
knowledge new branches of study need to be em- 
ployed, then let the time for completing the whole be 
proportionately increased, instead of enlarging the 
field of inquiry in one department at the expense of 
another. 

Language originates in the necessities of our na- 
ture. "We express our wants, we gratify desires by 
means of it. A national language is enlarged and 



OF LANGUAGE. 161 

Grammar and Rhetoric. Dialectics of Aristotle. 

perfected, as the wants of that nation become more 
numerous and the capacity for satisfying them is 
increased. It rises to its greatest perfection and 
beauty, where civilization has been carried to its 
highest point, and the systems of mental culture 
are most complete. 

The branches of study which are most usually em- 
ployed for the cultivation of language, are grammar, 
rhetoric, and foreign languages, both ancient and 
modern. Grammar and rhetoric belong to the same 
class, and may be considered rather as passive than 
as active agents in enabling us to give expression to 
thought. They are not so much for the cultivation 
of ease and volubility, as a means to test the accuracy 
of language. They are to the writer and the speak- 
er what the square is to the joiner, the water-level 
and the plumb are to the builder. We sometimes 
meet with a man who speaks very grammatically 
who never saw the inside of a grammar — who com- 
poses with purity and elegance, and reasons logically, 
who knows nothing of the elements of style, of rhe- 
torical tropes and figures — who hardly knows the 
meaning of logic, and never heard of the Dialectics 
of Aristotle. This is possible, and yet he may be 
guilty of gross blunders without knowing them to be 
such, and without the knowledge to correct them. 
The joiner may put work together without the 



162 THE STUDY 



A tasteful sentence. A great parser. 

square, and tlie builder may lay foundations without 
the level and the plumb ; but he has no means to 
test the accuracy of his work. 

On the other hand, we not unfrequently encounter 
those who know a text-book in rhetoric from begin- 
ning to end, and can describe every trope and figure 
known, and yet can not construct a tasteful sentence. 
This is doubtless true, and it points to a defect in the 
manner in which these studies are taught. Pupils 
have been made to repeat rules and formulae, without 
having exercises in the practical use of them. They 
have been taught to give the part of speech of each 
word in the parsing lesson, the "government and 
rule for it," without ever dreaming that all this is to 
enable them to speak and write the English language 
correctly ; and they would doubtless be unable to tell, 
if the question were propounded, whether man was 
made for grammar, or grammar for man. The great 
object of many a youth is to get through the text- 
book and into the Paradise Lost, and the height of 
his ambition is to be able to rattle off the lingo of 
what is termed a great parser. 

There are two legitimate results of studying gram- 
mar. It enables us in the first place to perceive the 
elements of a sentence and their offices. It shows 
us how to take to pieces the thoughts of the best 
writers, and to discover the manner in which those 



OF LANGUAGE. 163 

Analysis. Synthesis. Ehetoric, 

sentences were made. It imparts a clear notion of 
the different shades of idea which successive added 
words and elements will give. We thus acquire a 
nice discrimination in the use of language, and 
thereby form the habit of expressing our thoughts 
with accuracy and point. This part of grammar is 
termed Analysis. It has been treated with a master 
hand by Professor Green, in his " Analysis of the 
English Language." It is indeed a philosophic work 
and one of great merit. 

The second result of this study is to enable us to 
take those elements which we have found to exist in 
a sentence, and to recompose them, and thus make 
sentences for ourselves. It not only teaches us what 
offices the several elements are designed to fill ; but 
w^hat offices our own ingenuity can make them fill. 
Composition should be a much more frequent exer- 
cise than parsing, and should be interspersed with it. 

Taking sentences to pieces that have been well 
written, and writing sentences well ourselves, should 
be the chief business in the study of this science. 
And the learner should be reminded by each recur- 
ring lesson, that the object is to learn to speak and 
write correctly, and that whatever does not conduce 
to this result is of but little value, 

Ehetoric should likewise be made a practical mat- 
ter. We sometimes think we have done well for a 



164 THE STUDY 



Monsieur Jourdain in the French comedy. 



student when we make him recite the author used, 
and understand all the qualities of style and the 
figures of speech. But we are by no means sure 
that this will enable him to make a correct writer. 
He may have a very exact verbal knowledge of the 
concise and the verbose, of looseness and strength, 
of the comparison, the metaphor, the simile, synech- 
doche, ontonomasia and onomatopeia, and yet he 
may be entirely innocent of their use. If we were 
to teach a printer's apprentice to become a ready and 
skillful compositor, we would not tie his hands be- 
hind him, and then lead him round and explain the 
use of the various objects employed in the different 
parts of the work — the compositor's stick, the fonts 
of type, with the lines and leads. For although he 
might by this means understand what was necessary 
to be done, yet he would be little better prepared to 
execute a fine job of work than before our instruc- 
tions commenced. But we would place the composi- 
tor's stick in his hands, put him to the font of type, 
and combine instruction with practice. When Mon- 
sieur Jourdain, in the French comedy, is told that he 
must bring his jaws very near together, and stretch 
the corners of his mouth towards his ears whenever 
he pronounced the vowel I, the direction seemed 
to the unsophisticated ignoramus like very profound 
learning. But whether the pupil was enabled to 



OF LANGUAGE. 165 

Teaching should be practical. 

give utterance to the sound any better after he had 
heard that learned rule than before, we are not in- 
formed. 

It may with safety be asserted, that a large ma- 
jority of those who study grammar do not reap the 
proper, the legitimate results. A person who learns 
to recite all the definitions of terms in grammar — to 
repeat the rules for the government of words — and 
to parse fluently in some poem, may acquire thereby 
some discipline of mind and habits of attention ; but 
these are only the subsidiary results. How many of 
those who study grammar improve in speaking and 
writing the English language, in any tolerable pro- 
portion to the time and effort expended, I submit to 
the good judgment of practical teachers to decide. 
The position which the study of grammar now occu- 
pies in many of our schools, is not very unlike that 
held by the steam engine in the early history of that 
invention, when nearly all the power was expended 
in moving the wheels and gearing necessary to its 
own motion. Until we as teachers, can learn to in- 
struct in the branches of grammar and rhetoric in 
such a manner that our pupils can bring into prac- 
tice what they learn, and shall have their energies 
directed to the great results which it is the design of 
those noble sciences to accomplish, we signally fail. 

The second means employed in our schools for 



166 THE STUDY 



Foreign languages. Active agent. 

improvement in speaking and writing, is the study 
of foreign languages. In tlie remarks wbicTi I am 
about to submit on the comparative value of the 
ancient languages, I shall not attempt to advocate 
the study of them on the ground of ancient prestige 
and renown ; I shall take no advantage of the fact 
that Milton and Pope, and Newton and Johnson, and 
Burke and Macaulay, and "Webster and Prescott, the 
acknowledged leaders of their respective generations, 
were all ripe classical scholars. No principle of aris- 
tocracy should be brought to bear in keeping any 
study in a system of education longer than the best 
good of the pupil demands it. If the ancient lan- 
guages can not hold their place among the studies 
usually employed for acquiring a liberal culture, on 
their own merits, then let them give way to those 
which will better accomplish the purpose for which 
they are designed. Let every thing pertaining to a 
course of study rest upon this basis. 

I have said that grammar and rhetoric were pas- 
sive agents in enabling us to speak and write. These 
furnish us with rules and definitions by which we 
may determine whether our use of language be cor- 
rect. The study of foreign languages, on the con- 
trary, is an active agent, which exercises us in the 
expression of our thoughts. It gives us power and 
fluency in the use of words, and precision in the ar- 



OF LANGUAGE. 167 

Mental process in translating. Active agent. 

rangement of tliem. It is frequently impossible to 
translate a sentence so as to make it into good pure 
English, by giving tlie meaning of each word as 
found in the vocabularies ; but we can readily per- 
ceive what the meaning of the author was designed 
to be ; hence our ingenuity is taxed to select from 
our stock of words, those which will best express 
the particular shades of idea which we find in the 
original. We not unfrequently meet with a sen- 
tence in a foreign language, where the idea is ap- 
parent enough, but which gives us quite as much 
difficulty to put into good English as to word an 
original thought. For this reason, I choose to call it 
an active agent in disciplining those faculties which 
are employed for the expression of our ideas. It 
affords us a rich experience in originating and 
framing forms of expression, and in adapting the 
words of our own language to choicest specimens 
of thought. Hence the advantage of studying any 
foreign tongue, is to enable us to use our own with 
greater ease and accuracy. This is the great object 
which should ever be kept in view ; the end for the 
attainment of which our efforts should be directed. 
This so far transcends all others that it may be con- 
sidered the only real purpose for which any language 
is studied. It is rare that a person studies a lan- 
guage for the immediate purpose of conversation. 



168 THE STUDY 



Modern language simple. Geometry. 

Of the tliousands wlio acquire the modern languages 
in schools and colleges, the number is comparatively 
small who ever speak them with tolerable propriety, 
unless they mingle with those nations which use 
them. The culture to be derived from the study 
of a modern language is the same in kind as that 
from an ancient, only differing in degree. The 
former is more simple, the order of the words more 
nearly resembles our own, and there are fewer 
idioms in its construction. There is therefore less 
difficulty in translating it. Our judgment is not so 
much brought into exercise in selecting words, and 
arranging them in our minds so as to express the 
particular idea of the author we read, as in the 
ancient. Hence the culture to be derived from its 
study is less severe, and as a consequence less power- 
ful and abiding in its influence upon our habits of 
expression. If none of the propositions in Geometry 
were more difficult to prove than that the three an- 
gles of a triangle are equal to two right angles, the 
labor would be comparatively easy, and the mental 
culture to be derived therefrom would be corre- 
spondingly small. But if we want a higher order of 
discipline, we must grapple with those which are less 
elementary in their nature. If, therefore, a person 
only wants a limited amount of culture in expressing 
his thoughts, or has not the time and means for more 



OF LANGUAGE. 169 

The French. Objection to languages. 

extended studies, a modern language would, doubt- 
less, be more serviceable than an ancient ; and it is 
advisable for those who are intending to pursue the 
ancient languages to begin with some modern ; espe- 
cially for young persons and for ladies. The latter 
being easier, will serve as a stepping-stone to the 
more difficult. For this purpose there is probably 
none better than the French. It has the merit of 
precision and accuracy, and very much resembles in 
this particular the Greek. But it is not necessary to 
institute a comparison between the merits of the sev- 
eral modern languages — a subject rich in thought. 

A perfect S3^stem of education, as has been already 
observed, acquaints us with facts, with the processes 
of reasoning, and with the use of lauguage. If it 
fails in either, it is defective. There is an objection 
sometimes raised to the study of the languages, on 
the plea that much time is wasted in the attempt to 
learn them, which might be more profitably expended 
upon other studies ; that innocent boys and girls are 
kept repeating the declensions and conjugations — 
the hic^ hcBc, hoc, — bam, bo, bus, — -j^ai, tu as, il a, when 
the time might be employed upon studies more con- 
genial and practical.* It is not difficult to excite 

* The memory can be as -well disciplined by treasuring up in its 
garner names of substances and their relations, which will be of real 
value in life, and without a knowledge of which, men and women 

8 



170 THE STUDY 



Every science has its nomenclature. 



derision in the minds of the young and the unedu- 
cated, by representing the ultimate end of the study 
of the languages to be the learning and repeating 
these senseless sounds. Upon the same principle, we 
might excite equal derision in the minds of this class 
by the cosines and ahscissce in the Mathematics, by 
the barhara, dani, ferio, haralvpton^ in Logic, or the 
MoUushs^ Entomostraca^ TuhuUbranchiates, Gasteropods^ 
and Rhizopods in Zoology. Every science has its no- 
menclature. There are terms like these in all, which 
are constantly recurring, which sound like a bar- 
barous jargon to those who know not their use. 
They are employed merely for convenience, and con- 
titute no real part of the study. In a language, 
we do not look upon the declensions and conju- 
gations as any part of the labor from which we 
are to derive the great advantage of studying it. 
They are the media through which we look at the 
thought. They are merely the A B Cs of the sci- 
ence. "We learn these as a matter of course, as we 

ought to be ashamed of themselves — as by repeating, till one is out 
of breath, ode, tode, or that sublime piece of philology and poetry — 

From 0, are formed am and em, 
From i, ram, rim, ro, sse and sem : 
U, us, and rus, are formed from um. 
All other parts from re do come — 
As ham, ho, rem. 

Address of R. P. StebUns, D. D. 



OF LANGUAGE. 171 

Opinion of Professor Pierce, of Cambridge. 

learn tlie definitions of terms, and the rules in gram- 
mar, or as a mechanic learns the names of his tools, 
and the printer the places where his types are kept. 

If by the objection (that time is wasted upon the 
ancient languages which might be more profitably 
spent upon some other studies), is meant that other 
studies designed to cultivate language should be 
substituted in their place, then, let the value of those 
studies be tested, and if they are better adapted 
to secure the end desired, let the languages give 
place to them. I do not know that any such claim 
is made. If it be meant that the study of the lan- 
guages be discontinued* entirely, without any sub- 
stitute, and the time devoted to the mathematics and 

* " I will confirm my argument [in favor of the natural sciences] by 
the excellent and weighty authority of Professor Pierce, of Cambridge. 
In a letter written the last summer to Hon. Abbot Lawrence, founder 
of the scientific school connected with the university, in which he con- 
gratulates Mr. Lawrence upon the eminent success of the institution, 
he says (I quote from memory) : ' The school has demonstrated that a 
good education can be gained without classical studies.' Such an 
opinion, comuig from the shades of the oldest university in the coun- 
try, is especially worthy of note. So far as mental discipline is con- 
cerned, I have shown that the natural sciences are more efQcieut and 
attractive than the study of the languages ; that in studying the works 
of God we may do more for our intellectual culture than in studying 
the words of man. I now proceed to show that the knowledge which 
we gain In the study of the sciences is as much more valuable than 
that which we gain in the study of the languages, as its discipline is 
hettevy— Address of i?. P. Std)Uns, D. D. 



172 THE STUDY 



Several forms of objection- 



tile sciences, tlaen the gift of language would be neg- 
lected, and that balance of mind which it is the bus- 
iness of education to strengthen and preserve, would 
be lost. Again, if it is meant that too great a pro- 
portion of time is spent upon the languages, then let 
the time be readjusted and equalized, so that each 
class of studies may have its due share. Let no 
power perish through neglect. If a man should 
keep either of his eyes shut continuously it would 
soon be enfeebled, and that beautiful and delicate 
organ would perish. "We become culpable by neg- 
lect as much as by misuse. The cultivation of all 
the faculties should go on hand in hand. But, 
finally, if it be meant by this objection, that time is 
squandered in attempting to acquire a knowledge of 
the languages without attaining the true object for 
which they should be studied, or even understanding 
what that object is, if it be meant that those who 
pursue them study to no profitable purpose, then I 
join hands with the objector, and declare the saying 
worthy of all acceptation. As I have already stated, 
there are but few of those who study English gram- 
mar in the way in which it was formerly taught in 
our common schools, who are enabled thereby to 
speak and write the English language more cor- 
rectly. So, of the vast number in our schools and 
universities who study the ancient languages, but a 



OF LANGUAGE. 173 

College degrees. Derivation of words. 

small portion of them reap the ricli fruits which 
the classics may be made to yield. Indeed, there are 
very many college degrees that stand for a very 
small amount of philosophical knowledge of the lan- 
guages. Students learn the declensions and conjuga- 
tions, a few of the rules for construction, the vocab- 
ulary definitions of the words, and then, as the ulti- 
matum, to garble the thoughts of the classic writers 
in horrid English. They hobble along through the 
remainder of their course upon crutches, ox- such a 
staff as they can pick up by the way. 

We are aware that even this method yields a cer- 
tain amount of advantage. The pupil learns the de- 
rivation of many words, and gets a discipline of the 
memory and other faculties. But these are merely 
the incidental results, and can be attained much more 
readily and economically in other ways. The great 
business of cultivating power and expression— of ac* 
quiring exactness in the use of language — of study- 
ing the classics for the purpose of enabling us to 
communicate thoughts in our own language with 
gTeater ease and accuracy, is left untouched. The 
skill derived from seeing a thought in a foreign 
tongue, and making an expression to match it in our 
own, is not appreciated. This class of students 
would be much better off without the ancient lan- 
guages than with them. They squander and waste 



174 THE STUDY 



A glorious cheat. Ignorance of teachers. 

rmicli valuable time, that might be devoted to labor 
in some useful and honest occupation. It is true that 
they absorb something of the caste and polish of the 
genuine students by mingling with them from day to 
day, but in the main, they get in lieu of a great good 
which they seek, nought but a glorious cheat. This 
shocking waste of time and money, and of mental 
energy in a few instances, is susceptible of explana- 
tion. 

In the first place, a large number of those who fail 
are either persons of very moderate endowments, 
who have not brains enough to learn an ancient lan- 
guage, and would be much more usefully employed 
if they were at home swingling flax, or they are the 
sons of rich men, who do not want a college educa- 
tion, but whom the aristocracy of the family requires 
to take a degree at the university. A much larger 
number, who have fair talents, who are anxious to 
become good linguists, and who are honest and faith- 
ful in the application of their energies to the accom- 
plishment of that purpose, make a signal and most 
shameful failure through the ignorance or negligence 
of teachers in not pointing out the true object of 
their labors, and the proper course to be pursued in 
order to attain it. The ghost of a good lady once 
appeared to her very dear friend, and on being asked 
if she was happy, replied that she had but one de- 



OF LANGUAGE. 175 

Mathematics, Skill of the teacher. Old method. 

sire — that she miglit come back to earth and ask for- 
giveness for having attempted to teach what she did 
not know. 

When the scholar begins the study of a language, 
he has no idea of the work to be accomplished. He 
sees before him nothing but the blackness of dark- 
ness, and often the shadows are very gloomy behind. 
He must therefore be governed in his efforts by his 
teacher. It is not in this study as in the mathemat- 
ics, where a scholar by himself will, if he be honest 
and earnest in his endeavors, rarely f^iil in pursuing 
the true course to the end contemplated. But in a 
language, he may expend much useless time and la- 
bor before he finds the direct road. Here there is 
need of the ingenuity and judgment of the instructor. 
He must direct the efforts of his pupils in learning 
those things which he can put to immediate use, and 
thus fasten them in the mind. Pupils are not unfre- 
quently compelled to begin the study of Latin, by 
learning from the grammar, principles, rules, excep- 
tions — one indiscriminate mass, without the remotest 
conception of their application, and frequently not 
knowing the meaning of the terms used, or the ex- 
amples which he is obliged verbally to commit. This 
usage is parallel with that of teaching the A B Cs by 
calling the child up and giving him a daily dose of 
twenty -six barbarous-looking characters, with un- 



176 THE STUDY 



' Et tu Brute /" Ollendorff method. 



heard-of nameSj and requiring him to remember 
tliem. 

Many of those who now denounce in unmeasured 
terms the study of the ancient languages, judge of 
the difficulties to be encountered in mastering the ru- 
diments, by the senseless labors to which they them- 
selves were once subjected. The faults of the sys- 
tems of instruction are charged upon the studies 
themselves, upon which are bestowed curses loud 
and long. And it sometimes happens, that those 
very powers which have been acquired by the most 
elaborate classical training, are employed in con- 
demning their use. Whenever I see such shameless 
ingratitude, I am forcibly reminded of the words of 
the dying Caesar, " Et tu, Brute .^" 

There have of late been great advances made in 
conducting the study of the rudiments of the lan- 
guages. There are two general systems now in use. 
One is called the Ollendorff method, from the fact 
that he first introduced the leading features of the 
system into practice in his classes, and afterward 
published them for the use of pupils in the German. 
Books upon that plan have since been prepared in 
nearly all the languages, both ancient and modern. 
The plan in that system is to put a thing into prac- 
tice as soon as it is learned, and by constant repeti- 
tion acquire the habit of using it correctly. As soon 



OF LANGUAGE. 177 

Its peculiarity. Comparative merits of the two systems. 

as tlie pupil has learned a half dozen words of Latin, 
he begins to translate into English and to compose 
Latin. When he has learned a declension, he is re- 
quired to use the several cases till he has a practical 
knowledge of them. Each of the constructions pe- 
culiar to a language must be mastered, bj the use of 
numerous examples in which they are found, and he 
is then obliged to make sentences in which those con- 
structions shall be introduced. It will be seen at a 
glance that this is the most thorough and comprehen- 
sive course that can be pursued. By this, every thing 
is mastered as we proceed, and a pupil is prepared to 
read and compose at pleasure. 

By the other system, the student first learns the 
grammar, and then begins at once to translate. By 
this method he is obliged to learn many things with- 
out seeing their immediate use. He obtains an ac- 
quaintance with the various constructions only as he 
recognizes them in the author which he reads. In 
thus learning a language, he will be enabled to trans- 
late a classic work in a much shorter time than by 
any other, and if pursued under the guidance of a 
skillful teacher, may acquire a thorough knowledge 
of it. 

In deciding upon the comparative merits of the 

two systems, we should take into consideration the 

maturity of the faculties to be used. In acquiring a 

8* 



178 THE STUDY 



Age of the pupil. Knowledge practical. 

language, the memorj is the one chiefly employed. 
"We have all observed that in youth the memory dif- 
fers from that in later years. In youth, we can read- 
ily remember facts ; in manhood, we remember prin- 
ciples, facts being retained only as they are referred 
to principles. In youth, we gather the materials 
which we use when we come to the period of reflec- 
tion. The mind in youth is more tenacious of facts 
than it is in manhood, while principles can scarcely 
be remembered because not comprehended ; but in 
the prime of life we remember almost entirely by 
classifying our knowledge. 

From these facts, it would follow that the Ol- 
lendorff method is better suited to youthful minds, 
and that of beginning with the grammar to minds 
which have arrived at the period of maturity. 
The latter method, however, should never be ex- 
clusively used. The pupil should be exercised as 
he advances, in putting the facts and principles 
into practice. He should be taught to write in 
the language which he is learning, such sentences 
as will illustrate the use of the cases in the declen- 
sions, the moods and tenses in the conjugations, and 
all the difficult constructions in syntax. He will 
thus fix his knowledge, and understand its value.* 

* It is scarcely necessary to add that the progress of the pupil will 
be greatly accelerated by reducing his knowledge, as far as possible, 



OF LANGUAGE. 179 

Habits of thoroughness. 

In acquiring the rudiments of a language, the stu- 
dent ouglit to be trained to habits of thorougbness 
and accuracy. Its laws and tbe principles of inter- 
pretation should be fully understood before be is al- 
lowed to look into a classic author. He should not 
only be able to explain all its peculiar constructions 
by reference to the rules of grammar^ but he should 
be so familiar with them, that he can recognize them 
as old acquaintances. Then there is some satisfaction 
in reading a language, and the student can begin in 
an original author, and advance at once to the higher 
principles of interpretation and rhetorical criticism. 
He thus realizes the true design of studying it. But 
how numerous are the cases where a student rushes 
forward to Caesar and Yirgil, and assumes the airs of 
a perfect man in language, before he is prepared to 
leave off his swaddling clothes, and instead of inter- 
preting upon the principles of construction, and be- 



to practice. From the necessity of the case, it is evident that much 
of the pupil's time must be occupied in learning rules. If, however, 
the teacher is confined to these alone, it becomes intolerably irksome. 
The mind struggles against it, and is willing quickly to forget what is 
associated with nothing but pain. It was formerly the practice to 
carry a boy through the T^atin grammar before he began to translate a 
word ; and months were consumed in this dry and repulsive labor. 
It would be no wonder, if, under such a discipline, he learned to abom- 
inate the grammar, the language, and the instructor together. — Way- 
land's InteUedual Fhihsophy, page 211. 



180 THE STUDY 



Good text-books. Eesources of a scholar. A grave error. 

cause lie knows it is so, relies implicitly upon the 
Yankee's prerogative, and guesses it out. Such a 
course is fatal to scholarship. 

But there is not so great a liability to error in ac- 
quiring the rudiments of a language as in the subse- 
quent career of the student. Mastering the rudiments 
is, in a great measure, mechanical. It requires skill 
on the part of the instructor, simply in introducing 
things to be learned at the right time, and of repeat- 
ing the matter accomplished at proper intervals ; and 
in this the teacher is much relieved if he use a text- 
book skillfully arranged, and based upon correct j)rin- 
ciples. But when we come to the interpretation of 
an original classic author, there is needed the judg- 
ment and resources of a scholar ; not merely one who 
understands the matter himself, but who can initiate 
others into the mysteries. One great mistake that is 
made in this part of the work, consists in being con- 
tent with imparting rudimentary knowledge. Hence 
all the efforts through the whole course are directed 
to training in the grammatical structure of the lan- 
guage, and the derivation of words. 

Another error of a graver nature, consists in al- 
lowing students to translate a classic writer by calling 
the Latin words in their English order, and giving 
their vocabulary meanings. This can not properly 
be called translating, but garbling. That can never 



OF LANGUAGE. 181 

Two requisites for a translation. 

be a translation which, is not good pure English. 
There are two requisites for a translation ; the first 
is, that it have the spirit of the original, and still be 
correct English ; and second, that it be as strictly 
literal as the former condition will allow. By pur- 
suing the method indicated above, the student may 
give the meanings of the words, and still not realize 
the beauty and force of the sentence or paragraph 
which he is attempting to read. His whole attention 
is taken up with calling the words in two languages, 
and keeping an eye to the correspondence of con- 
struction. It is our object in studying a language, as 
has been already indicated, to cultivate the habit of 
making correct English sentences, of using language 
with ease and accuracy. There are many idioms in 
every foreign tongue. If, in such phrases, we call 
the words and give their English meanings, though 
they may be given in the right case, mood, tense, 
number, and person, yet it would not convey the 
true idea, nor would it be good English. The pur- 
pose for which we are studying would be subverted ; 
for we should not be learning to use correct En- 
glish, but a mongrel. Ehetoricians have a term for 
this ; they call it an idiotism. It is from the trans- 
lation of idiomatic expressions that we derive the 
greatest advantage. In these phrases we can usually 
discover the meaning of the author, and our ingenu- 



182 THE STUDY 



At a loss to express our thoughts. 



ity is taxed in order to frame the expression which 
shall properly -translate it. This is the kind of 
discipline we need. Those who have had no 
lingual culture, often find a difficulty in expressing 
themselves properly. They have the thought in 
mind, their opinions are well matured, but they 
can not use the language which will accurately ex- 
press them, and they are obliged to appear to a 
great disadvantage. The proper study of language 
is designed to remove this defect, and to give power 
and pointedness of expression. But if the pupil is 
allowed to make translations as indicated above, it 
has the tendency to cultivate the habit of looseness 
and inaccuracy, the habit above all others which we 
need to correct. A foreign language studied in this 
way, instead of conferring a good, infliats upon us a 
decided injury, and the less time thus spent, the bet- 
ter. The best period of youth is lost in laboring for 
that which we fail to get. The pupil may seek with 
diligence, and labor with earnestness, but the apple 
turns to ashes in his mouth. 

After having thoroughly mastered the rudiments, 
the most efficient way of reaping the largest results 
from translating, is to take a whole clause or para- 
graph into the mind at once, and after having se- 
lected the meaning of the words with taste, to make 
the English sentence with the greatest care and 



OF LANGUAGE. 183 

Gibbon's habit of composition. Awkward accuracy. 

nicety, so tliat when uttered it may appear polislied 
like a gem. It is recorded by Gibbon, in that most 
delightful fragment of autobiography which he has 
left us, that in the composition of his History of the 
Decline and Fall of the Koman Empire, he always 
made a whole paragraph or section at a single cast, 
before he had put a word upon paper. This habit is 
worthy of our consideration, and can in no way be 
so successfully cultivated as in translating from an 
ancient language. In adopting, however, this elabo- 
rate and comprehensive system of interpretation, there 
is one error which should be scrupulously avoided. 
"While we make our translations pure English, we 
should use no words which will convey a shade of 
idea different from that intended by the author. Our 
first object should be to ascertain his precise mean- 
ing; we have then to use our judgment, and to tax 
our inventive powers to frame a thought whose lan- 
guage shall correspond to the original. This exer- 
cise is very much like looking our own thoughts into 
shape, and cultivates that power and energy of ex- 
pression of which we so often feel the need. 

In following out the principles indicated in trans- 
lating a classic author, there is a certain awkward 
accuracy which should be avoided. The Edinburgh 
Eeview for April, 1849, tells us of the case of the 
Eev. Theophilus Mudge, *' who translated Greek 



184 THE STUDY 

Practical rhetoric. 

througb. a brick wall. Imagination and invention, 
whether in classics or mathematics, were strangers 
to his soul. He could have walked on his head 
sooner than have composed a line of Latin or Greek 
which had a spark of vigor in it. He was familiar 
with Yiger, and knew by heart all the private history 
of Iva and oiroyg^ and all the etiquette of the subjunc- 
tive and optative moods." It is not enough to be ac- 
curate, to be literal, to make good English ; but it is 
requisite tbat a translation have some of the fire and 
vigor of the original. 

Another advantage whicb is attainable by the 
study of the great master-pieces in the foreign lan- 
guages, is apt to be either wholly overlooked, or 
greatly underrated ; it is the opportunity which is af- 
forded for the study of tlie qualities of style, or prac- 
tical rhetoric. We there have, in their perfection, all 
the elements which rhetoricians so learnedly, and often 
so abstractly and obscurely talk about. If the stu- 
dent is required carefully to distinguish and analyze 
the qualities of style of the author which he reads, 
and to refer each trope and figure to its proper class, 
he would learn more of the principles of rhetoric, 
and acquire a greater facility in their use, than the 
most elaborate study of a text-book upon criticism. 
He would not only learn how a critic says writing 
should be done, but he would have continually be- 



OF LANGUAGE. 185 

Opinion of Burke. Homer. Advantages recapitulated, 

fore him a living model of the manner in which the 
masters of the art have done it. '' I am persuaded," 
says Burke, " that understanding Homer well, would 
contribute more towards perfecting taste than all the 
metaphysical treatises upon the arts that ever have 
or can be written ; because such treatises upon the 
arts can only tell what true taste is, but Homer every- 
where shows it. He shows that the true sublime is 
always easy and always natural ; that it consists more 
in the manner than in the subject, and is to be found 
by a good poet and a good painter in almost every 
part of nature." 

Without dwelling at length upon the minor bene- 
fits resulting from studying foreign languages, I will, 
in concluding this part of my subject, sijm up what 
I conceive to be the advantages derived from devot- 
ing a liberal amount of time and effort to the mas- 
tery of these studies. 

I. The principal object, and the one before which 
all others sink into insignificance, is to cultivate the 
power of expression, to enable us to use our own 
language with greater ease and accuracy. 

II. Among the subordinate advantages, we may 
name : 

1. The knowledge which we thereby obtain of the 
derivation of all the words which have been trans- 
planted from those languages into our own, thus giv- 



186 THE STUDY 



Character of the ancient authors. 



ing a more elementary and comprehensive idea of 
their meaning. 

2. The culture which we attain of the memory, 
and a habit of concentration of mind, inasmuch as 
the meaning of all the words of those languages 
must be learned, and the principles of their con- 
struction. 

3. The opportunity it affords for the study of the 
qualities of style, and of obtaining a practical knowl- 
edge of the principles of rhetoric. 

4. The information which we directly gain of the 
history, mythology, politics, poetry, and oratory of 
the ancients, in their original spirit, which we could 
never gain by means of translations. 

Thus far I have said nothing concerning the char- 
acter of the ancient authors themselves. Are their 
conceptions worthy of our examination ? Is the style 
of their writings, their acuteness of analysis, and 
power of disquisition, proper to become the models 
for our imitation ? If we examine with minuteness 
the works of the great classic writers which are put 
into the hands of the pupil, we shall find that they 
challenge our respect and veneration. All that is 
lofty in thought, or sublime in action, is found upon 
their pages. Homer, the father of poetry, whose he- 
roes are the gods that tread the golden halls of Olym- 
pus, and kings and mighty men clad in celestial ar- 



OF LANGUAGE. 187 

Alexander. Poetry, history, and oratory. 

mor ; Demosthenes, the orator whose " eloquence 
shook the arsenal, and falmined over Greece ;" Sap- 
pho and Pindar, the sweet lyric singers, whose me- 
lodious lines are the embodiment of fancy and senti- 
ment ; Eschylus, the tragic poet, whose actors are 
the deep passions of the human heart, and whose 
messengers are the winged winds ; Cicero, the law- 
yer, the terror of conspirators and the defender of 
the liberties of his country ; Horace, the good easy 
man, whose odes smack of good cheer and sparkling 
wine; and Tacitus, the historian, whose sententious 
periods greatly please while they instruct — such are 
the men whom the student of classic lore may make 
his friends. The productions of such men are fitted 
to inspire the youthful scholar with new ardor in the 
pursuits of learning. The reading of Homer made 
Alexander a warrior ; and many a youth since the 
days of Alexander has been enamored of all that 
is noble and heroic in action, by the verses of that 
blind old bard. In poetry, in history, in or- 
atory, he has the choicest specimens constantly be- 
fore him. When we throw aside the classics, we 
banish from our systems of education the lights of 
all past ages ; we separate from the company of those 
whose genius and learning have won for them imper- 
ishable fame ; we reverse the judgment of the learned 
of every cultivated nation ; we dismiss, for other 



188 THE STUDY 

Models of excellence. Opinions of Lord Macaulay. 

guides, those who, age after age, have famished 
models for every species of excellence in thought. 

Lord Macaulay, in opening his critique on the 
Athenian orators, says, " The celebrity of the great 
classical writers is confined within no limits except 
those which separate civilized from savage man. 
Their works are the common property of every pol- 
ished nation. In the minds of the educated classes 
throughout Europe, their names are indissolubly as- 
sociated with the endearing recollections of child- 
hood — the old school-room, the dog-eared grammar, 
the first prize, the tears so often shed and so quickly 
dried." And in closing his essay on Mitford's His- 
tory of Greece, he uses these memorable words : 
" Of the indifference which Mr. Mitford shows on 
this subject [that splendid literature] I will not 
speak, for I can not speak with fairness. It is a 
subject in which I love to forget the accuracy of a 
judge, in the veneration of a worshipper and the 
gratitude of a child. If we consider merely the 
subtlety of disquisition, the force of imagination, 
the perfect energy and elegance of expression which 
characterize the great works of Athenian genius, we 
must pronounce them intrinsically most valuable. 
All the triumphs of truth and genius over prejudice 
and power, in every country and in every age, have 
been the tiiumphs of Athens.'* 



OF LANGUAGE. 189 

Necessity of harmonious development. Decide understandingly. 

Before deciding that the classics shall no longer 
fill a prominent place in our systems of education, 
we should consider the necessity which exists of 
a harmonious development of the faculties of the 
mind, the importance of that class of powers which 
the classics are designed to develop, and whether 
we have any other coarse of discipline to substitute 
for them, which will accomplish the work so well. 
It is idle to talk of substituting the physical sciences 
in their place, or to advocate such a change on the 
ground that it is better to study the works of the 
Creator than the words of man, as though conscious- 
ness were not as legitimate a field for the study of 
the Creator's attributes as the objects about us in the 
physical world. The fact is, man was made with 
his face upward, and it is folly for him to spend his 
days in poking about his feet. Bunyan's muck-rake 
is a simile in point. Until we have meditated these 
questions, and decided them understandingly, until 
we are able to build in its place a more enduring edi- 
fice, let us not tear down a structure whose founda- 
tions are firm, and whose massive and majestic walls 
are covered with the moss of centuries. 

Whatever means we adopt for its culture, it is the 
English language that we are to speak. That good 
old English tongue has been moulding and perfect- 
ing itself for many centuries. It had, at the outset, 



190 THE STUDY 

The English tongue. Eminent writers who have used it. 

the strongest, yet rudest materials. It has plundered 
from almost every language that was ever in the 
mouths of men. It has had the advantage of the 
highest civilization since the world began. 

When we consider that this language which we 
speak and read, is the language in which Bacon con- 
ceived and meditated those thoughts which changed 
the whole course of metaphysical speculation, and 
created a new era in philosophical investigation — 
when we remember that Shakspeare in this language 
has ranged the whole field of human character, from 
the monarch on his throne to the peasant in his 
straw hut, and has touched, with a master's hand, all 
the passions, and humors, and sentiments of the hu- 
man heart — when we read the poetry of Milton, and 
are enabled by means of it to contemplate all those 
images of beauty which his plastic imagination has 
created in Eden's garden, and those scenes of grand- 
eur and sublimity where angels, and the Creator 
himself, speak to us — when we read the clear, the 
polished, the transparent periods of Hume, the grand 
and lofty paragraphs of Gibbon, the penetrating and 
earnest words of Macaulay, the bold and manly elo- 
quence of Webster, and the sweet, graceful words of 
Clay, and remember that all this is in our own 
English tongue — is it not worth while to study, and 
meditate, and perfect our knowledge of it ? 



OF LAKGUAGE. 191 

Conclusion. 

A language of such depth, and force, and beau- 
ty, is not to be learned in a few short terms of 
school and college, or with little care. To acquire 
a thorough knowledge of it is the serious busi- 
ness of a lifetime. By the study of its structure 
and its grammatical principles, by the attentive 
reading of the best authors, by the study of foreign 
languages, that shall throw light upon it, and teach 
us its derivation, by careful and protracted medita- 
tion, and by care in speaking, we should strive to 
know it in its perfection. Some of the purest pleas- 
ure of my life has been derived from the study of 
language. And although the beginning of the way 
was difficult, and dusty, and fatiguing, the elevations 
are easy and pleasant, and the prospects delightful. 



LECTURE VI. 

THE MEANS AND ENDS OF EDUCATION. 

IPUKPOSE to speak of the means and ends of 
a practical education — one that may produce 
fruit. Education, in its special and restricted sense, 
is the work of developing the faculties of the mind. 
It is a process by which the mental energies are fur- 
nished with material and put to work. The mind is 
sometimes compared to a storehouse, where a profu- 
sion of articles are indiscriminately stowed away. 
This is an unfortunate figure. Better liken it to the 
workshop of the mechanic, or to the hall of the ar- 
tist, where numerous operatives are engaged in exe- 
cuting forms of beauty and usefulness. The various 
faculties of the mind, as memory, imagination, taste, 
are the workmen employed. The material which 
they are engaged in transforming into beautiful and 
useful shapes, the marble, the steel, the gold, the sil- 
ver, are the ideas which we have of the various ob- 
jects by which we are surrounded. The means by 
which those workmen have acquired skill in produc- 
mg specimens of their labor of greater or less excel- 



MEANSAND ENDS OF EDUCATION. 193 

Clear conceptions. Coin and the college degree. 

lence, as regards strength, harmoDy, durability, fin- 
ish, is, when applied to the energies of mind, what 
we mean by education. 

If this be a true idea, the means employed should 
be such as to accomplish the end desired. We should 
not labor so much to accumulate vast stores, as to 
give the mind clear and vivid conceptions, and to 
stimulate its energies to long and vigorous exertions. 
That man is not of necessity best educated, who has 
read the most books, or spent most time in the 
schools. Those j^atents of nobility in the republic 
of letters, written upon sheepskin, and signed by the 
president of a college, certifying that the bearer has 
spent four years of his life within its walls, are, in too 
many instances, synonymous with those labels we 
see attached to bottles of patent medicine. Some of 
them are good for all they call for; but too many 
are the currency of quacks. This fact does not in 
the least depreciate the value of a sound collegiate 
education. The gold coin issued by government al- 
ways carries with it the value upon its face, although 
there is abundance of the spurious article in circula- 
tion that is not worth the brass of which it is made. 
But there is this difference between the coin and the 
college degree. Government puts its stamp only 
upon the genuine article, and we are left to detect 
the bogus by the want of it ; whereas the faculty of 



194 THE MEANS AND 



Knowledge of the present. 



a college affix tlieir official seal to the spurious and 
the good alike; and we are without the means of 
knowing the value of one A. M. over another, and 
from frequent deception are inclined to doubt all till 
we have proven them. 

Many men in our midst are possessed of the sound- 
est culture, who have never had the advantage of a 
liberal education. The newspapers, and contact with 
the world, have been their tutors. The intercourse 
of society in the business of real life, where contend- 
ing passions and counter interests impart a whole- 
some discipline, is a much better nurse of common 
sense than the cloistered cell. Careful, keen observa- 
tion has furnished them with the material of thought 
from sources in which we are least liable to be de- 
ceived. The public journals, which are the only real 
histories that the world produces, enable them to 
compare the opinions and reasonings of other men 
with their own. They thus acquire a discipline of 
mind at the same time that they obtain an accurate 
and practical knowledge of the times, and are thereby 
prepared to act understandingly in any emergency. 
If we bear in mind the definition of education which 
we have already given — ^the furnishing the mind with 
material and putting it to work — we shall not won- 
der at their success. The richest classical education, 
unassisted by any kind of practical knowledge, af- 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 195 

Thermopylse. Malakoff. Self-educated men. Halls of Congress. 

fords a very ■ancertain guide in managing present 
affairs. The student of Grecian lore may be inti- 
mately acquainted with the tactics employed in the 
siege and defense of Thermopylae ; but these would 
by no means be adapted to the taking of the tower 
on the Malakoff. He may know all the policy and 
chicanery which Themistocles employed to, deceive 
the Lac3edemonians, and secure the completion of the 
wall of defense around the city of Athens ; and yet 
he may be a novice in devising a network of plots 
which shall introduce or exclude slavery in the Ter- 
ritories. 

The self-educated man frequently meets with emi- 
nent success in the management of affairs, because 
his school has been the present times ; while the 
adept in classical learning fails, because his school 
was exclusively among the ancients. If we look into 
our halls of Congress we shall find that the sword of 
argument cuts keenest, and is handled right and left 
most dexterously, when wielded by a man who has 
learned what he knows from his reading of men, and 
the present workings of civil society, quite as often 
as when managed by him who has acquired his 
knowledge among musty folios, or has with pale and 
sickly countenance delved deepest in the mysteries 
of science. We often wonder how it is that the 
members elected from the Territories and newly set- 



196 


THE 


MEANS 


AND 




Everett. 




Washington. 




Adams. 



tied States, who have enjoy ed few educational advan- 
tages, can compete with our wisest and ablest men 
from the old States, where every facility is afforded 
for the most extensive culture. But it not unfre- 
quently happens that the man transferred from the 
prairies and stumps of the West, holds his opinions 
and accomphshes his purposes quite as successfully 
as his more polished compeer. Everett and Sumner 
may upon occasion dehver very finished orations ; 
but in originating and perfecting a bill, and in the 
management of an impromptu debate, they find 
themselves in an assembly at least their equals. 
"Washington, and Franklin, and Roger Sherman had 
never received any thing from a college till its de- 
grees of honor were showered upon them ; yet their 
services were quite as important to the country as 
those of Adams, and Randolph, and Lee, though 
these had been crowned with the bay of the univer- 
sities. 

I have said that the self-educated man is some- 
times more practical and successful in the mana^-e- 
ment of affairs than the professed scholar. I may go 
farther. We sometimes consider books as the only 
source of education ; but a man may indeed be well 
educated who knows nothing of books. Material 
for thought, and the ability of thinking with inten- 
sity upon any question at pleasure, may be possessed 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 197 

Homer. "Wandering minstrels. 

without their aid. It is possible that a man might 
possess intellectual faculties of the highest order, and 
carried to the highest point of cultivation, who could 
not write his own name. Homer, the father of poet- 
ry, the favored of the muses, from whose heroes the 
poets of all succeeding generations have formed their 
models, and from whose gbwing periods they have 
drawn their inspiration, lived in an age of the world 
before letters had been invented. His poems were 
composed and treasured in the memory, and re- 
^^rHed to the people on festive occasions. Wandering 
^minstrels learned them from their author, and they 
were thus handed down from age to age, through the 
memory of men, till they were eventually rescued 
from the weakness and casualties of that treacherous 
faculty by the preserving power of letters. 

It may possibly be inferred, from what has been 
said, that I do not entertain a very high opinion of 
our present systems of training, and do not look with 
favor upon what is termed a liberal education. Such 
a conclusion, however, would be unwarranted. The 
remarks which have been made were intended to 
throw ligbt upon the term education, and to give us 
a clearer conception of the true idea conveyed by it. 
An earnest, genuine education is a very different 
thing from those notions of it which exist in the 
minds of many. The lad in the district school meas- 



198 THE MEANS AND 

The student in the university. The man of mature years. 

ures his progress by tlie rapidity with which he ad- 
vances in the text-books placed in his hands, rather 
than by the depth and accuracy of his knowledge of 
a single principle which he has hurriedly passed over. 
He judges that to be good reading when the words 
are called most rapidh^, instead of that when the idea 
is studied, and the proper emphasis, tone, and modu- 
lation are employed to convey the thoughts truth- 
fully and vividly. The student in the university oft- 
ener prides himself upon having risen to the dignity 
of a more advanced class, than upon that depth and 
richness of thought, which accurate scholarship in 
the elements of knowledge is fitted to impart, or up- 
on that retrospective glance which he is sometimes 
compelled to take when he is called to give his opin- 
ion of questions connected with his earlier studies. 
He spends the best of his time in cracking the shell 
of the nut, and rushes on, without stopping to take 
out the meat, to something else that needs to be 
cracked, and thus, ever cracking, he scarce enjoys a 
nibble. He pursues the shadow and misses the sub- 
stance. ISTor is this disposition confined to the lad in 
the district school or the stripling at college. If 
we knew the secret thoughts of our fellow-men, we 
should not unfrequently find the man of mature 
years, who loves to be classed among literary charac- 
ters, priding himself more on the number of square 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 199 

Education which will show. Popular delusion. 

feet of books which he has in his library, than npon 
the number of solid thoughts which he entertains in 
his head. 

We thus perceive that through all the grades of 
honor, among those who cultivate their minds, from 
the boy on the lowest form at school up to the coun- 
selor and the man of letters by profession, there is 
manifested a taste for that kind of education which 
will show, rather than that which accomplishes 
results, which gives us the power of continuous 
thought, which nerves the mind to untiring exertion, 
in which enables us to bring to the examination of 
every subject, principles that have become settled 
our minds from previous research and study. The 
opinions of many men are worth nothing, because 
they are based upon nothing. They have never 
taken any pains to accumulate facts, or reflections, 
and hence, without any capital stock, they issue 
opinions which are the mere random workings of a 
vacant brain. Perhaps we have not on record a bet- 
ter example of popular delusion than that which was 
practiced, a few years ago, by a waggish writer for 
one of the Kew York journals. Sir William Her- 
schell was, at the time, at the Cape of Good Hope, 
making observations upon the heavenly bodies. A 
column appeared in one of the morning papers, 
headed, in flaming letters, " Wonderful Develop- 



200 THEMEANSAND 

The image. Disposition to try opinions. 

ments of the Telescope," in which it was asserted 
that the great astronomer had succeeded, by intro- 
ducing a strong pencil of light into the dark cham- 
ber of the telescope, upon the image there formed, in 
observing, with the greatest ease and distinctness, the 
men and animals living npon the face of the moon. 
By the representations of the piece, the man in the 
moon had become onr near neighbor. N"ow a mo- 
ment's reflection, by any one who knew the first 
principles of optical science, or who had even ad- 
vanced so far in knowledge as to have observed his 
own shadow, would have shown that the image 
formed in a telescope, which is simply a shadow, 
would vanish the instant a beam of light is thrown 
upon it. But so artfully was the piece prepared, and 
so little discriminating thought did the people bestow 
upon it, that many of the learned, even, were success- 
fully duped. Men were wild with delight at the tri- 
umphs of the discoverer, and some, I have no doubt, 
were ready to invest small sums in the purchase of 
wild lands there. 

The time has gone by when we are to take the 
dictum of a man because he pretends to know, and 
is supposed to have had the opportunity of learning. 
But we are disposed to try every opinion, and prove 
it before adopting it. The time was when authority 
was proof, or at least equal to it in value ; but it is so 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 201 

Teachings of Bacon. Of Christ. Means compared. 

no longer. In these matter-of-fact times we have 
come to deal with realities and not their semblances. 
We have learned to judge of the culture of a man's 
mind, not by the number of years he has been en- 
gaged in study, but by what he is able to do — 'by the 
fruits his mind is capable of yielding. This is the 
great lesson that the philosophy of Bacon has taught 
us — to judge of every thing by its fruits ; and indeed 
a greater than Bacon had, centuries before, declared, 
" By their fruits ye shall know them." It makes 
very little difference whether this mental culture, this 
ability to think accurately, which is the result of a 
sound education, was obtained by the light of a rush 
candle, after the toil and sweat of a hard day's la- 
bor, or was acquired while reclining at ease, listening 
to the words of a learned professor, and gazing at 
him through a gold-bowed quizzing glass. The only 
question that concerns us is, has the education been 
acquired? Is it actually possessed? Can we de- 
pend upon the genuineness of the pretension ? We 
should be as ready to accord the palm to deserving 
merit, when won we know not how, as to him who 
has passed through a course of academic studies. 

But lest I may be misunderstood respecting the 
best course to be pursued in acquiring knowledge, 
let us examine and compare the means usually em- 
ployed for the accomplishment of the purpose. I 



202 THE MEANS AND 

Self-educated men. More practical than profound. 

have already referred to a class who have figured ex- 
tensively in public afiairs, and in the domain of let- 
ters, who are termed self-educated men. They de- 
serve much credit, as well for their energy as their 
success. Often they have been obliged to struggle 
with adverse circumstances, and have accumulated 
what they possess by dint of untiring application, in 
the midst of the cares of laborious occupations. But 
we should not allow them honor and confidence be- 
3^ond what they deserve. Their education is usually 
more practical than profound, more special and cir- 
cumscribed, than general and comprehensive. In 
common affairs in which they have had experience, 
their judgment can be relied on. But lacking that 
breadth and profoundness of view, which thorough 
training in the elements of knowledge is intended to 
bestow, they frequently find themselves in the dark, 
and obliged to act without any settled opinions. 

And yet those who have least information, often 
have the greatest confidence in themselves. Their 
views are advanced as absolute, and with as much 
assurance as though they carried the keys of knowl- 
edge. Assurance is so characteristic of such, that 
Inspiration hath declared, "The fool rageth and is 
confident." There are none so hopelessly foolish, or 
whose advice is to be taken with so much caution^ 
as those who are over wise in their own conceit. 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 203 

Sentiment of Pope. Socrates. Delphic oracle. 

We not -unfreqiiently meet with demonstrations of 
the sentiment uttered by Pope, 

" A little learning is a dangerous thing." 

As the spark which is suddenly struclr, in the midst 
of profound darkness, produces a blinding effect up- 
on the sight, so the mind is sometimes overpowered 
by being brought from the darkness of ignorance in- 
to the light of very common truths. But as the pu- 
pil of the eye opens and enlarges before the beaming 
of in!enser light, so the mind is strengthened and 
expanded by the steady contemplation of new truths. 



-" shallow drafts intoxicate the brain, 



But drinking deeper sobers us again," 

Socrates was indeed pronounced by the Delphic 
oracle wisest among men. But for what? Because, 
in his own opinion, he knew nothing. Because he 
had withstood the first blinding effects of knowledge, 
and could now look into its serene depths, and see 
how vain are our greatest acquirements compared 
with what is possible to be known. The response 
of the Pythia was in accordance with the declara- 
tions of Holy Writ. For we are represented as be- 
ing truly wise, when we have learned enough to 
make us meek and humble like little children. 

The empiric and the charlatan usually acquire 



204 THE MEANS AND 

The empiric. His success. Well-read physician, 

confidence mucli beyond what they deserve. Many 
people manifest^ a disposition to confide in one who 
boasts loudly, and who has seized the idea that he 
has the qualifications for a leader in some art or pro- 
fession, rather than in one who, by long study and 
experience, has prepared himself for a responsible 
position, and puts forth his pretensions with modesty. 
The profession of medicine furnishes a good illus- 
tration. There seems to be a charm that insensibly 
draws many people to the quack. Let a man come 
into a town with a name spelled with a continental 
combination of letters, and post upon the corners of 
the streets flaming advertisements that he is some 
great somebod}^, from a great city somewhere, and 
that he has letters from innumerable sick folk, who 
have been miraculously cured of their leprosy by the 
use of his all-curing and never-failing medicine, and 
instantly the afflicted of every kind and degree of 
disease, without any other knowledge of his charac- 
ter or his acquirements than that which they can 
learn from the trumpet which he himself blows, rush 
forward; eager to see which shall trouble the waters 
first ; and, without murmuring, pay any sums which 
he in his caprice may demand ; while the well-read 
physician at our doors, who has spent money and 
the best years of his life in a careful study of diseases 
and remedies, who is acquainted with the hereditary 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 205 

Thorough medical kuowledge preferred. Means. 

taints and temperaments of our families, who, in sun- 
shine or in storm, by night or by day, is ready with 
a willing heart to turn out and minister to our suffer- 
ings, who has watched by the bedside of the dying 
mother, or father, or brother, or sister, or child, and 
has faithfully tried his skill to the last, is passed by, 
or paid grudgingly for his services. 

In the profession of medicine, systematic and 
thorough culture in the science often comes in 
competition with skill practically acquired without 
education. In general, when natural abilities and 
application to duty are equal, it is always safest to 
employ that man who has the most thorough medical 
knowledge. For he certainly can best succeed who, 
in an emergency, has the most resources at hand. 
That physician who is content with the knowledge 
which he was obliged to acquire before he could ob- 
tain his degree, who neglects to take and read the 
leading medical reviews, and who begrudges the pur- 
chase of a few new books, from time to time, as the 
knowledge of the science advances, is not the man in 
whose hands we should willingly trust our lives. 

It will be seen that it is my aim to advocate a 
thorough, genuine education, and not the mere 
vague and indefinite pretension. The best means 
for the attainment of such an education are abund- 
ant, and can not be mistaken by the honest seeker. 



206 THE MEANS AND 

Thorough understanding of what is learned. 

The first requisite is a spirit of inquiry — a dispo- 
sition to seek' as for hidden treasure — to separate 
truth from error' — to sift opinions and ideas till 
the true gold has been found. When such a dis- 
position exists, and is united with a resolute pur- 
pose, the possessor will make real progress. Eeal 
progress: I use the term in distinction from that 
fictitious progress which prevails in many of our 
highest institutions, which is measured by studies 
finished, and terms passed in the college walls. We 
need a system of training which shall develop a liv- 
ing, breathing, healthy education, and not the mere 
dry bones of one. Let the boy who enters the com- 
mon school, be thoroughly drilled in every princi- 
ple, and be taught the why and the wherefore of 
every step as he advances, so that he may depend 
upon his own faculties for a reason, and not trust to 
the mere arbitrary rule of the book, without know- 
ing or appreciating its bearing. When he enters the 
high school, the same thoroughness should be in- 
sisted on in all that is taught. He should not com- 
mence the study of Latin and Greek because he is 
obliged to have a knowledge of these in order to get 
to the university. But he should be inspired with 
a taste for these studies at the outsst, and he should 
be encouraged to pursue them with that enthusiasm 
which is sure to be rewarded with rich fruits. The 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 207 

Opposition to liberal education. First class. 

attainment of a certain, positive good at eacli step as 
we advance, should be the incentive to exertion, and 
not the prospect of becoming a member of some 
celebrated institution. The student in the university 
should aim at the ripest scholarship. He should not 
feel that any honor is to be conferred upon him for 
having passed through it, provided he has not got 
that for which the university was established. 

There exists, in the minds of many, a feeling of 
dislike and opposition to what is termed a liberal 
education. This feeling is cherished on the part 
of a certain class of the illiterate, who would in 
general be opposed to all improvement beyond 
what is absolutely necessary. It is the class who 
send their children to the district school to learn 
just enough that they may not be cheated when 
they grow up; who value the pieces of hard money 
which they have laid away in a chest, more than the 
number of bright ideas which they can store in the 
mind ; and who look upon the life of the thinker, 
and the professional man, as a life of laziness and 
rascality, and regard with distrust all he does or says. 
We do not deny that there are some among the pro- 
fession of thinkers who can, upon occasion, show 
some acquaintance with laziness and rascality. 
There are, indeed, in every rank and grade of so- 
ciety, those who disgrace it. The argument of this 



208 THE MEANS AND 

Second class of objectors. Defective early education. 

class is tliat the tree of knowledge should be cut 
down, because we sometimes cbance to gather from 
it bitter fruits. The objection of these is narrow- 
minded, and goes for nothing. 

But there is in a higher class, among our business 
men, our practical men, an antipathy towards liberal 
culture. They are not without valid reasons for 
the feelings which they cherish. There are several 
causes which combine to produce these sentiments. 
Many of those who receive a coUegiatie education 
are wofully deficient in those branches which they 
should have learned at the common school, and the 
college is not a place to mend such deficiencies. 
Many a young man who is entitled to put the first 
two letters of the alphabet after his name, is unable 
to spell correctly a large proportion of the words 
which he uses, and in the practical business of life 
he is found a complete novice, even in figures, in 
geography, and in history. Having proved himself 
wanting in the tnost common elements of an educa- 
tion, he is judged to be equally so in all others, and 
is at once set down as an ignoramus, and his A. B. 
is at a heavy discount. 

Again, many of those who pass through all the 
grades of a liberal education, know so little about 
the various branches to which they have been re- 
quired to give their attention, that they scarcely re- 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 209 

Ignorance of what is studied. Faults in organization. 

member the names of the authors thej have read, 
or the text-books in the sciences which they have 
studied. Such are held in the estimation they de- 
serve. They have not been true to themselves, and 
the confidence with which they would challenge the 
world is forfeited. They not only bring disgrace up- 
on themselves for making pretension to that which 
they do not possess, but they cast a reproach upon 
liberal education, and injure the good name of the 
institution under whose fostering care they have 
sought protection and support. 

There is one fault in the organization and man- 
agement of the higher institutions, which serves to 
strengthen this feeling of hostility. The courses of 
study, in many instances, are not adapted to the pur- 
pose of making practical men, but simply scholars. 
Instead of fitting them for the duties of life, it oper- 
ates to unfit them for almost any place in society. It 
is said that one of the most distinguished scholars of 
the past generation, when asked by the lady where 
he was spending his college vacation, to harness the 
horse for her, actually put on the hames first and 
then the collar, and supposed that this was the way 
they were intended to be worn. Students, on leav- 
ing college,* are often compelled to begin life anew. 

* " It is a very common complaint that thrifty, untaught farmers 
grudge the cost of a thorough education for their sons and daughters. 



210 THE MEANS AND 

Changes contemplated. Hodge's contempt for learning. 

Instead of being fitted to take the lead in society, 
they frequently find that they have much to learn, 
and that those whom they left behind them when 
they departed for its secluded walls, are infinitely 
their superiors. In the English universities, and in 
some of the best colleges in this country, changes 
have been agitated in the courses of study, and 
methods of discipline. Some wholesome improve- 
ments have already been introduced. The demand 
for the reform is manifested in the public mind, by 



Hodge, industrious and independent in his ignorance, scorns his edu- 
cated neighbor, who is but a drone and a beggar with it all. ' I 
have succeeded well enough,' sajs he, 'without education; why 
shouldn't my children do the same?' Now I regret Hodge's con- 
tempt for learning, but I can not pretend to be surprised at it. On 
the contrary, it seems to me most natural, and not very blameworthy. 
For do but consider that the educated son or daughter too often re- 
turns to the paternal home with an ill-disguised contempt for its 
homely roof, and a positive aversion to its downright labor. Who 
would expect a sensible, home-bred parent to relish and value such 
an education? 

" That son is not truly educated who can not grow more com on the 
acre than his unlearned father, and grow it with less labor. That 
educated daughter has received a mistaken and superficial training, if 
she can not excel her mother in making soap, or cheese, or butter. 
All these are chemical processes, in which her education should ren- 
der her an adept, far beyond any untaught person. The educated 
lawyer, doctor, or clergyman, whose garden is not better (I do not say 
larger), and his fruit trees more thrifty and productive than his illiter- 
ate neighbor's, sadly discredits and damages the cause of education." — 
Lecture on Education, by Horace Greeley. 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 211 

Another reason. Kemark of Scott. 

tlie numerous attempts made for the establishment 
of People's colleges, and the subject is receiving the 
attention of some of out wisest educators. 

Another reason which operates to produce a feel- 
ing against liberally educated men, arises from the 
fact that they seem to manifest a desire to withdraw 
themselves as much as possible from mingling in 
business affairs. They strive to create an aristocracy 
of letters, and draw a dividing line between them- 
selves and the balance of humanity. Instead of 
throwing themselves upon the current of every-day 
life, and braving the struggles manfully, they stand 
aloof, and talk and act as though they were a differ- 
ent order of beings from their fellow-men ; as though 
to mingle in the common labors of life would detract 
from their dignity and standing. They look upon 
business as degrading to the scholar.* They seem 
to consider it debasing to education to make it sub- 
servient to any practical or useful purpose. They 
are the followers of Aristotle, who taught men that 
if they would be real philosophers, they must with- 



* Sir "Walter Scott, whose literary accomplisliments have filled the 
world with admiration, once remarked, " There is no necessary con- 
nection between genius and an aversion or contempt for any of the 
common duties of life. On the contrary, to spend some portion of 
every day in any matter-of-fact occupation is good for the higher pow- 
ers themselves in the upshot." — Lockhart's Memoirs of Scott. 



212 THE MEANS AND 

Bacon. The thinking man. The laboring man. 

draw themselves, as completely as possible, from all 
the real affairs of life that can serve a practical or 
useful purpose, instead of being the followers of Ba- 
con, who taught that ''knowledge is power," and 
that philosophy is good for nothing unless it en- 
ables us to accomplish some useful results, unless it 
can bring forth fruits. 

Such a disposition manifested by those who are 
educated, is disastrous to progress. The basis of a 
nation or community is the laboring population ; 
and though it be true that the thinking men shape 
the affairs of the world, yet they can never accom- 
plish their designs without the aid of the former, and 
the most splendid triumphs of knowledge must ever 
be where there is the most cordial cooperation of the 
two classes. The thinking man and the laboring 
man must understand each other. They must re- 
alize that each is working for the other's good ; that 
they are in a common field, putting forth united ex- 
ertions to overcome those obstacles which exist to 
the progress of civil society, and that they are reach- 
ing forward to a success equally desired by both. 
There is perhaps a greater tendency towards this re- 
sult in this country, than in our sister nations of the 
globe, owing to our common school education, which 
is open to every child, and to our free, political in- 
stitutions, which act aa a powerful stimulant in the 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 213 

Preface of Mr. Agassiz's work. 

universal development of mind. My confidence in 
this assertion has been strengthened by a remark 
which occurs in the preface to the great work of 
Mr. Agassiz on the ' ' Natural History of the United 
States of America." '' There is not a class of learned 
men here," says he, '' distinct from the other culti- 
vated members of the community. On the contrary, 
so general is the desire for knowledge, that I expect 
to see my book read by operatives, by fishermen, by 
farmers, quite as extensively as by the students of 
our colleges, or by the learned professors ; and it is 
but proper that I should make myself understood by 
all." 

The objections which are thus urged against a 
liberal education, originate either from a narrow- 
minded view of the subject, or from judgments 
passed upon weak and imbecile representatives of 
such culture, or from the fact that those institutions 
which are established for giving it, are not fully 
adapted to the purpose. " The principal of these ob- 
jections is not really made against the systems em- 
ployed, but against the abuse of them. If the re- 
sults accomplished by these systems be such as they 
were intended to produce, these objections would 
have no weight. Faults are charged upon the in- 
stitutions for which J;hey are not responsible. Not 
every boy who goes to college is capable, or desirous 



214 THE MEANS AND 

Faults clinrged upon the institutions. 

of receiving tliat culture whicli the college is adapted 
to bestow. It is ungenerous, to say the least, to 
make the Alma Mater responsible for the ignorance 
or imbecility of every graceless son. It is impos- 
sible, by the nicest skill of the chemist, to make a 
diamond out of paste, and he should not be censured 
when he makes the best possible from the materials. 
One man may lead a horse away to watering, but ten 
men can not make him drink. Free mental agents 
have their future intellectual destinies under their 
own control, and however excellent or efficient the 
instrument employed for their improvement, a way- 
ward youth may use it for his own disgrace. An 
awkward fellow may hack his face with the keenest 
of razors. Indeed, some men have cut their throats 
with razors. But these facts do not prove that a 
sharp razor is not a most welcome and blessed im- 
plement when a man would pare the beard smoothly 
from his face. 

The systems for the attainment of a liberal educa- 
tion have been adopted from the experience and wis- 
dom of many centuries. They have been modeled 
and perfected by a long line of illustrious genera- 
tions. They come to us stamped with the approval 
of the profoundest scholars of any age. Still they 
are not perfect. Improvements are yet to be made. 
This generation has need of a different system of 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 215 

Progress of humanity. Political tricksters. 

training fi'om that whicli preceded it The tide of 
humanity sweeps onward, and what was good for to- 
day needs to be remodeled for to-morrow. There 
are changes now that undoubtedly need to be made. 
"We should probably have more vigorous and pro- 
found scholars from our colleges, if there were a less 
number of studies pursued, with a more generous 
culture in those which are left. Yet in general they 
are admirably adapted to accomplish the end de- 
signed. 

I have thus dwelt at considerable length upon 
these objections to liberal culture, that they might 
be set in their proper light, and that its true interest 
might not be prejudiced on account of them ; and 
have urged the importance of such culture, that 
every one who has the ability may be induced to 
acquire it. We have need of more educated men in 
our midst. I do not say that we have need of more 
educated ministers, and lawyers, and doctors ; for of 
the latter two we have already enough to last a gen- 
eration or two without any fear of failure. But we 
want more educated farmers, and mechanics, and 
laborers. This class of men should be so educated 
that our governors and members of Congress can be 
elected from among them, rather than from a set of 
political tricksters, who will barter, and buy, and sell 
the interests of their constituents, and sjII themselves, 



216 THE MEANS AND 

Honest yeomanry. 

body and soul. If many who occupy tlie cTiief places 
in our political synagogues were this day driven out 
with a scourge, as were the sinners of old, and their 
places filled from among the honest yeomanry of our 
land, I believe our nation would be more wisely gov- 
erned, more prosperous at home, and more respected 
abroad. 

But there are many young men in our midst 
who have the ability and the inclination to obtain 
a thorough education, who have not the means of 
supporting themselves during the two or three years 
necessary to prepare for, and the four years in pass- 
ing through the university, with the numerous de- 
mands that are made upon one in an incidental way. 
But even in the midst of adverse circumstances, 
courage will do much for a man. If, in the pursuit 
of knowledge, fortune seems to frown upon your 
way, take courage, and the shadows will lift before a 
resolutely formed purpose, and let the light through. 
Be diligent, and get all that is within your power ! 
Negbct no means of acquiring information, or of 
securing wholesome discipline of mind ! Because 
you have not all you desire, sit not with folded 
hands saying you will have nothing! When diffi- 
culties irritate and perplex, and discouragements 
thicken around you, do not retreat, with the excuse 
that there is a lion in the way I Do not set out in 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 217 

Majesty of life. James "Watt. 

the noble enterprise, and then lay down in your own 
tracks ! 

To the youthful aspirant of to-day, who is willing 
to take so humble a sentiment as labor for his watch- 
word, there are noble examples to cheer him among 
the great names of the past. Some of the brightest 
lights that have adorned the generations in which 
they lived, and have led the way wherever they have 
appeared, are those who have been obliged to trust 
to their own hands for maintenance and aid. "With 
strong wills and trusting hearts, their lives have ex- 
hibited that majesty which action, steady, noble, suc- 
cessful, alone can give. 

James Watt, the inventor of the steam engine, was 
in early life a toiling mechanic in indigent circum- 
stances. He w^as employed by the university to re- 
pair, and keep in order, the apparatus used in illus- 
trating the principles of natural philosophy and 
chemistry. Had he been like many mechanics, he 
would have been content with doing the work as- 
signed, receiving his pay, and then smoking and 
drinking a portion of it, with such companions as he 
could induce to join him in the nearest saloon. But 
his mind, lit up with thought, was busy in inquiring 
into those laws which the apparatus he was employed 
to repair was designed to illustrate ; and the think- 
ing of that one man has performed more actual la- 

10 



218 THE MEANS AND 

Nathaniel Bowditch. Catnbridgo commencement. Mechanique Celeste. 

bor than all the slaves that have toiled and sweat 
since creation. The thinking of that man has revo- 
lutionized modern society, and unborn generations 
will rise up to bless his name. 

Kathaniel Bowditch was a Boston sailor boy, and 
spent the greater portion of his years as a practical 
sailor. He had no instructor, and no opportunities 
for study, except such as the deck or the cabin of his 
vessel could afford. On one occasion, it was wind- 
bound for a week in Boston harbor. On commence- 
ment day at the university, he walked over to Cam- 
bridge to hear the performance. At the close the 
president conferred some honorary titles, and among 
them he thought he heard the degree of A. M. con- 
ferred on Nathaniel Bowditch. He was not mis- 
taken. They indeed gave their degrees to the sailor, 
and well they might, for he was writing books which, 
scarcely one of the faculty of the university could 
understand. The Practical Navigator, which was 
the result of his studies, has carried many a sailor 
through the storms and darkness of a tempestuous 
ocean, and has guided him safely over unknown 
seas. He translated the Mechanique Celeste of La 
Place, made corrections in the original, and added 
notes of his own, which caused the author to confess 
that he was convinced that Bowditch fully compre- 
hended his work. He died lamented as the man, the 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 219 

Elihu Burritt.. 

Christian, and the first mathematical scholar of his 
age. 

Elihu Burritt, the linguist, antiquary, and philan- 
thropist, was left fatherless when a youth, in com- 
pany with a numerous family of children, dependent 
upon their own exertions for support. He appren- 
ticed himself to a blacksmith. But his mind was not 
satisfied with blowing bellows, turning his iron, and 
pounding it into shapes desired. He had, previous 
to this, acquired considerable knowledge of history 
from the school district library. It would be a con- 
summation devoutly to be wished, I may remark by 
the way, if the authorities of this State could adopt 
some means of public policy by which every school 
district should be provided with a library. He was 
seized with a desire of learning Latin ; and while the 
iron was heating, with his book secured in the chim- 
ney, where the page could meet his eye, he conned 
the declensions and acquired the rudiments of that 
great language, and in the evenings of one winter he 
read Yirgi], that masterpiece of Latin poetry. From 
Latin he passed to Greek, then to the modern lan- 
guages, and finally back again to the oriental tongues. 
And thus with no aid but his own right hand, and 
with no teacher but his untiring mind, he has ac- 
quired a knowledge of upwards of fifty of the lead- 
ing languages of the earth, and has earned a world- 



220 THE MEANS AND 

Fifty-two languages. Franklin. 

wide reputation as the '' Learned Blacksmith." I 
have seen in the Antiquarian Hall in Worcester, 
Massachusetts, writing done by him in fifty-two lan- 
guages. "When a scholar at the preparatory school, 
just commencing my classical education, I used fre- 
quently to meet him upon the streets of that city, 
and I never gazed upon that massive front, but with 
the veneration of a worshiper. 

Need I mention in this connection a name which 
has become a household word, the cherished and 
honored name of Franklin. Thrown upon the mer- 
cies of the world while yet a boy, with no opportuni- 
ties for school education, it is like listening to a fairy 
tale, to read the simple narrative of his life as he 
tells it himself We are carried along with magic 
interest, as the panorama of his years passes by. 
We see him enter the printing ofl&ce as an apprentice 
— the wearisome days and sleepless nights at his 
books. We accompany the youth as he leaves his 
native city, on that then perilous voyage from Bos- 
ton to Philadelphia, wandeiing from his home a 
stranger, without friends, except such as by his in- 
telligence and kindness he never failed to make. 
We behold him an awkward boy, wandering up the 
streets of a strange city, with his three rolls of bread, 
one under each arm, eating at the third. This was 
indeed the day of small things, but he did not de- 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 221 

Gold-pointed kite. British House of Lords. 

spise it. He is deluded across the ocean bj the false 
promises of a knavish governor. He teaches the 
London printers temperance by his example, and 
philosophy with his tongue. He becomes the pro- 
prietor of a printing establishment, and edits a news- 
paper ; nor is he now ashamed of labor, for he car- 
ries the paper from the warehouse to the office upon 
a wheelbarrow, pushing with his own hands. He 
becomes a master spirit in literature, and penetrates 
the intricacies of science. He sends his gold-pointed 
kite into the heavens — with the simplicity and con- 
fidence of a child he holds out his hand to receive it, 
and the forked lightning lays harmless at his feet. 
Step by step he steadily mounts the heights of fame. 
It was no flashing meteoric light that dashes athwart 
the heavens, which he sent forth in the domain of 
thought, but the warm, steady, genial rays of the 
summer's sun. When the colonies became involved 
in trouble with the parent country, and storms and 
darkness seemed gathering in the political heavens, 
the intelligence of America pointed to the humble 
and self-laught Franklin as their safest counselor, 
and we find him at the bar of the British House of 
Lords, pleading for the interests of those weak and 
struggling colonies, the objects of his affection, and 
advising an infatuated ministry not to proceed to 
violence against his American brethren. He joins 



222 THE MEANS AND 

Court of Louis XVI. EflFects of labor. 

hands with the Father of his Country, and those other 
patriots, in making and securing the adoption of a 
constitution for the independent United States. In 
his age he goes, the venerable man with sage white 
locks and thoughtful brow, to represent a sovereign 
nation at the court of France, there to mingle with 
the wise men and philosophers of that land of letters, 
and to stand in presence of Louis XVI., the proudest 
monarch of his age. 

Such are the examples which the history of our 
nation offers for the encouragement and guidance of 
the present rising generation. If we turn to the ac- 
count of their lives, we can easily discover what les- 
sons of wisdom they early took. The course was 
simple, for they were not widely different from other 
boys, except so far as their energy made them, and 
their opportunities were less than what most enjoy. 
They did not despise labor. Labor was the potent 
spell that transformed their leisure moments into 
golden thoughts. Labor excited their childish facul- 
ties and strengthened the fiber of their minds, as the 
sapling oak is strengthened by the winds and storms 
of successive winters. Labor brought them into com- 
munion with the great scholars of near and distant 
ages, and enabled them to think the thoughts that 
wearied their brains. Labor made the taste of books 
sweet to them, as the toil of the husbandman makes 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 223 

Fruits of labor. Lays grievous burdens. Presents it with a balm. 

bim relisTi food. LaLor presented them witli such 
rich and golden fruits as encouraged and beckoned 
them on. She opened before them long vistas of 
glorj and honor, and pointed them to the distant 
goal. Labor indeed lays grievous burdens upon the 
back of her devotee ; but she nerves him at every 
step with a vigor and an enthusiasm which makes 
the burden light, and leads him on through sylvan 
scenes and lovely lawns, where at every step the 
senses are regaled with pleasant sounds and delicious 
odors. She racks the brain and strains the sinews 
of the mind, but she in turn presents it with a balm 
which makes it oblivious to every ache ; for who 
does not forget the pains of study, and the weariness 
of thought, when he knows that he has been a victor 
in the fields of knowledge ? Oh ! never will he for- 
get, who has sounded all the depths of science, the 
ecstatic joy which thrills the soul, as some thought 
sublime, or beautiful, or profound, breaks in upon 
the mind. There are the pleasures of sense. The 
palate may be gratified with the delicacies of the 
table gathered from many a clime. The ear may be 
thrilled by the melodies of the minstrel's harp. The 
zephyrs of evening may cool the moistened brow, or 
the fragrant breathing morn may gladden the early 
riser, and the eye may feast on pleasant sights. But 
these pleasures are small in comparison with those 



224 THE MEANS AND 

An error. Let us be done with schools and colleges. 

wLicli fill the bosom of him who is an honest wor- 
shiper at the shrine of knowledge. 

These illustrions examples to which I have re- 
ferred, are for the encouragement and instruction of 
us all. But in our admiration of their great ac- 
quirements and brilliant success, there is one error 
respecting them to which some may be liable. It 
may be hastily concluded, if self-taught men can at- 
tain to such preeminence in knowledge, let us be 
done with schools and colleges. Let us depend up- 
on self-educated men entirely. We need no better. 
If all were like Franklio, and Bowditch, and Watt, 
such reasoning might be accepted. We say that 
these men had no teachers. This is not true. They 
had teachers, and those of the very best kind. They 
were their own teachers. And who would not have 
rejoiced to have been a pupil under such instruc- 
tors? Who would not have delighted in learning 
philosophy of Franklin, or mathematics of Bowditch, 
or languages of Burritt? Our academies and col- 
leges were not good enough for them. They were 
in advance of the universities. The wisest professors 
could not teach them. But if the mass of mankind 
were to depend upon such instruction as each could 
give himself, education would meet with a signal de- 
feat. 

It is true that Elihu Burritt possessed a mind and 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 225 

Franklin's plan of a State University. 

a will sufficiently strong to enable him to conquer 
the dry and intricate details of the dead languages, 
during the leisure moments snatched from incessant 
toil, and to become a finished classical scholar while 
working eight hours a day at the anvil. But if we 
were to search the whole earth, we could not proba- 
bly find in his generation an example of so much 
energy and self-sacrificing zeal. It is doubtful 
whether he would himself have become such an 
eminent scholar, had he not observed the respect 
which is paid to the great minds of every age, and 
been incited to exertion by knowing the results, the 
fruits, which education produces. So that it is prob- 
able that liberal culture was the means indirectly 
of making him a scholar. Bat if we were to depend 
upon such means for universal education, the great 
mass of mankind would soon lapse into a state of 
intellectual night, worse than that which brooded 
over the dark ages. 

Perhaps no man is oftener quoted as a leading ex- 
ample of a self-taught man than Franklin ; and yet 
he was one of the strongest advocates of common 
school and collegiate education. In a plan which he 
drew up for the establishment of a State university, 
he speaks in the strongest language of the impor- 
tance of a classical and scientific education. " When 

youth are told," says he, " that the great men whose 

10* 



226 THE MEANS AND 

Studies for each of the professions. 

lives and actions they read in history, spoke two of 
the best languages that ever were, the most expres- 
sive, copious, beautiful, and that the finest writings, 
the most correct compositions, the most perfect pro- 
ductions of human wit and wisdom, are in those 
languages, which have endured for ages and will en- 
dare while there are men ; that no translation can 
do them justice or give the pleasure found in read- 
ing the originals ; that those languages contain all 
sciences ; that one of them is become almost univer- 
sal, being the language of learned men in all coun- 
tries ; and that to understand them is a distinguished 
ornament — they may be thereby made desirous of 
learning those languages, and their industry sharp- 
ened in the acquisition of them. All intended for 
divinity should be taught the Latin and Greek ; for 
physic, Latin, Greek, and French ; merchants, the 
French, German, and Spanish ; and though all 
should not be compelled to learn Latin, Greek, or 
the modern foreign languages, yet none that have an 
ardent desire to learn them should be refused ; their 
English, arithmetic, and other studies absolutely nec- 
essary, being at the same time not neglected." Such 
was the language of the self-taught Franklin upon 
the subject of liberal education ; and much of the 
latter part of his life was spent in devising plans for 
the systematic and thorough training of the young. 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 227 

Columbus. Leverrier and Adams. Dr. Gall. 

In conclusion, we may remark that a cultivated 
mind will always command respect. It is the think- 
ing man that takes the lead in society, whether he 
hail from college, from work-shop, or from tented 
field. Intelligence everywhere challenges our rev- 
erence. It has been somewhere remarked, that we 
should honor Columbus not so much because he dis- 
covered America, as for having thought through the 
problem that there was in existence a continent here- 
tofore undiscovered which he could go in search of. 
We honor Leverrier and Adams because they figured 
out, by means of mathematical principles, that place 
in the heavens where a new planet could be found, 
more than Dr. Gall, who actually turned his telescope 
to the spangled vault and discovered the wandering 
world. Our reverence and gratitude are due to James 
Watt, not because he actually made a steam engine 
and put it in operation, but because he thought out a 
plan by which a steam engine could be made. We 
should ever be ready to give credit to him whose 
thoughts are most valuable, and who thinks most 
successfully. The day is past when men are held 
in honor for what they are presumed to know, and 
are only accredited with the amount of available 
stock. 

It is when such principles as these prevail that real 
merit receives that encouragement and credit which 



228 THE MEANS AND 

Our Common Schools. Eally around them. 

it deserves; when thought is unfettered and is free 
from embarrassing restraint, whether imposed by 
arbitrary rule, or the forms and usages of an aristoc- 
Tacy in letters, that the mass of intelligence in a na- 
tion will produce its greatest results. It is then that 
every means adopted for mental development will 
meet with the greatest success. No step has ever 
been taken by any nation, which is calculated to ac- 
complish this result so successfully, as that for the 
founding and putting in operation a system of com- 
mon schools, — one of the distinguishing character- 
istics of our civil polity. Here all the children of 
the State are put on a common level. Every form of 
aristocrac}^ is broken down, and the utmost freedom 
is given to every child to make the greatest progress 
possible. Around our common schools all good and 
true men should rally, and every means which can 
improve and perfect the system, should be freely lav- 
ished upon it. It is only when made worthy the 
confidence of all interested that it will accomplish 
the greatest good. In general, the means that have 
been adopted, are, as systems, well adapted to the 
ends they are designed to accomplish. But the 
chief trouble is, they have not been put into effective 
operation. Oar plans are good upon the statute 
book and in the laws of the corporation, but we 
fail in the skill necessary to make them work well. 



ENDS OF EDUCATION. 229 

Disciples of Bacon indeed. 

It is only when our combined organizations in all 
their parts, from the primary department up through 
the academy and college, to the university with its 
professional schools, are made thorough and effective, 
that they can produce satisfactory results, and that 
the scholar who shares their benefits can become truly 
learned. At every step of the progress ripe scholar- 
ship should be the motto. Then should we behold 
the lovely sight of education bearing rich fruits, and 
the votary of learning would become the disciple of 
Bacon indeed. 



LECTURE YII. 

POPULAR EDUCATION. 

IT is with feelings of sincere pleasure tbat I come 
to meet with an association of teachers, and with 
citizens and friends anxious to promote the cause 
of education. You are engaged in a noble enter-^ 
prise, one which can not fail to enlist the sympathies 
of every generous bosom ; and although your Insti- 
tute is in its infancy, you will be certain of produc- 
ing good ; for if you fail to impart to those around 
you that spirit which you possess, you will at least 
strengthen your own aspirations, and nourish in 
your bosoms a yearning for improvement and ex- 
cellence, which is one of the fundamental conditions 
of success. It is a source of consolation to feel that 
one is aiding in the improvement of the race ; that 
he is doing something to dispel the darkness of ig- 
norance, even if he holds up but a feeble taper. 

One of the means of pleasure and pastime among 
the ancient Greeks was the Bacchanalia. These 
were feasts in honor of Bacchus, the god of wine, 
and were extremely popular throughout all Greece. 



POPULAE EDUCATION. 231 

Ancient Bacchanalia. Modern Bacchanalia. 

Men and women joined in his festivals, witli their 
heads wreathed with vine and ivj, with fawn skins 
flung about their shoulders, and blunt spears, twined 
with vines, in their hands. Dressed in these gro- 
tesque habiliments thej gave way to riotous j:evelrj. 
They sometimes wore the most indecent emblems, 
they beat upon drums and sang lewd songs, and 
thus they sought amid these frantic revels for plea- 
sure and enjoyment. 

In our own times, we have Bacchanalia, though 
with less of poetry and aesthetic emblems than the 
ancient. We have not the vine leaves, nor the fawn 
skins, nor the thyrsi. The scenes of our Bacchana- 
lia are the breweries, the groceries, the country tav- 
erns ; and instead of the juice of the vine we have 
the juice of the barley, the corn, and the old rye. 
Many of the rising generation among us, — ^young 
men at that period of life which is the bloom of 
manhood, when the character is becoming estab- 
lished, and those opinions formed which are to give 
them influence among men, and by which an esti- 
mate of their abilities is made, — seek for the highest 
pleasure and gratification which they are capable of 
feeling, in some dingy saloon, on the floor of which 
has been splashed from year to year the juice of that 
filthy weed, ground and soaked in filthier mouths, 
whose vapors mingle with the thick volumes of 



232 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Pleasures of the libertine. Intellectual pleasure. 

smoke that, curl about tlieir heads, and with the 
breath of human beings from lungs steeped in the 
fiery poison of copperas and logwood, and nameless 
drugs, — more resembling in its conglomerate quali- 
ties the deadly airs that arose from the fabled lake 
Mseotis, the Stygian wave, or the fumes of hell fire, 
than that sweet and pleasant atmosphere which mor- 
tals ought to breathe, — surrounded by companions 
whose foul-mouthed conversation is in keeping with 
the filthiness by which they are encircled, who are 
satisfied with this enjoyment, and are waiting to re- 
new it during the long winter evenings of the season. 
And this is pleasure ! Without one ray of intellect- 
ual light, without one generous aspiration for im- 
provement, they are willing to give themselves up 
a prey to the passions and the appetites, and degrade 
themselves to a condition worse than that of the 
brutes. 

I rejoice that I am permitted to meet here with 
those who have a higher notion of pleasure, who 
are actuated by a nobler purpose, who are stimu- 
lated to the attainment of a more exalted end. I 
rejoice that I am brought into sympathy with those 
who can find pleasure in intellectual pursuits. How 
noble I how generous! how philanthropic the pur- 
pose for which you associate. It is not sensual 
gratification that has called you here, but you have 



POPULAE EDUCATION. 233 



Labor of the pliilanthropist. That of the teacher. 

come to mingle in earnest inquiry for the elevation 
and improvement of our common schools. You 
have come to impart each to the other the fruits 
of your own experience, to detail the plans which 
have proved successful in arousing and energizing 
the faculties of the youth under your charge, to 
speak words of cheer and encouragement to those 
whose faith is weak, and who are ready .to falter by 
the way. 

We pour out lavishly the meed of sympathy and 
praise to the philanthropist, who directly alleviates 
human suffering and woe, who goes forth in a cru- 
sade against misery and crime. Such a purpose is 
indeed noble and generous. But he deals only with 
our physical natures. He labors to relieve us of the 
wants and distresses of the body, this mortal frame 
which will soon crumble into dust. You have to 
do with the mind, the intellect. You are laboring 
to relieve the wants, and poverty, and nakedness of 
the immortal spirit, to awaken within it new ener- 
gies, to prepare it to battle successfully with igno- 
rance and folly. 

It is this business of education, of Popular Edu- 
cation, upon which I propose to speak. Education, 
the development of the faculties, the acquirement of 
knowledge, must always depend upon two facts : 
First, that all our perceptions either come directly or 



284 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Education dependent on two facts. 

are suggested bj the operation of external objects 
upon the five senses ; and, second, it must depend 
upon the mind itself whether the impressions are con- 
verted into permanent knowledge. There are these 
two stand-points from which education should be 
viewed. There is the process of reception and as- 
similation. The basis of all learning is upon these 
two conditions. We may force the elements of 
knowledge upon the mind as long as we please, 
but if there is not the power or the disposition to 
assimilate that knowledge, and make it a part of the 
mental energy and being, its presentation is useless 
and our efforts are vain. Nay, more, it is like the 
crude and indigestible food which is taken into the 
stomach, which not only fails to nourish, and is not 
used by the vital energies, but throws us into pain 
and convulsions. 

Hence, in adopting a system of education, we 
should study not only the best means of presenting 
the elements of knowledge, but also the most suc- 
cessful methods of arousing the mind, of giving it 
energy and vivifying power, of leading it forth to 
seek for itself. There is no high-pressure system by 
which knowledge can be forced upon the mind if 
the mind is not prepared to receive it. You may 
supply the child with the most skillful teachers, you 
may put into his hands the best prepared text-books. 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 235 

Disposition to learn. Books suited to the capacity. 

but unless tlie faculties are alive, unless there is 
something of intellectual hunger your efforts will be 
vain. 

"We often see, where the faculties are crowded be- 
yond what their age or capacity will bear, that they 
become surfeited, and that quickness and readiness 
which was observed at an earlier period is gone and 
can never be reproduced. We observe in childhood 
that " Mother Goose Melodies" and stories told in a 
very simple style, or united to rhythm and melody 
are most attractive and can be most easily learned. 
At a later period the elements of the sciences are 
understood. At a later period still, when arrived at 
the age of reflection and reason, of abstraction and 
generalization, the more complicate principles of the 
higher mathematics are grappled with and mastered, 
and the taste for philosophical investigation is de- 
veloped. If, therefore, the mind at one period is 
put upon knowledge which is the appropriate ob- 
ject of another period, instead of conquering it, the 
mind may itself be conquered by it, and its power 
and elasticity for ever lost. 

When we consider these two facts which I have 
named chronologically, we observe that the process 
of reception must precede that of assimilation. But 
when we examine them in their logical order we see 
that the reverse is true ; that the mental energy, the 



286 POPULAE EDUCATION. 

Logical order. Topular ignorance. 

disposition to learn must exist anterior to the recep- 
tion of ideas. I therefore propose to treat the sub- 
ject in its logical order. 

Let us then first consider this fundamental re- 
quisite of knowledge, the disposition. When we look 
abroad upon mankind and observe the various forms 
of popular ignorance, we can not but be filled with 
feelings of sadness in view of the general degraded 
condition of the race. What a vast proportion of all 
who are created are content to go through life igno- 
rant of almost every thing, except the few notions 
which pertain to us as animal beings 1 How large 
a number, especially in the old world, are compelled 
by the constitution of society to toil on day after day, 
till the grave closes over them and relieves their 
strained and aching sinews, for the morsel they eat 
and the rags they wear! And yet, when we con- 
sider ignorance even in its worst forms, when we 
think of this dark veil which envelops the greater 
portion of the race, are we not arrested with the 
thought that there is in man the ability, if there 
were the disposition, to know more and rise higher; 
that there is a spark now buried that might be 
fanned into a flame to give life and vivacity to the 
energies? How many are there who hare abso- 
lutely no thoughts above the dead level of the ani- 
mal nature, in whom, if some elements of knowledge, 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 237 

Mind aroused. Course of folly. The rivulet. 

some facts concerning tlie simplest phenomena we 
meet could be divulged in youth, it would awaken 
inquiry and set the mind in motion ; and those facts 
recurring, even during the periods of incessant toil, 
would be the means of suggesting other and original 
knowledge, the product of the naked intellect itself; 
and thus step by step would they ascend in the scale 
of intelligence. 

How many do we meet whose minds have been 
aroused and who have a purpose, but who have been 
aroused by the word or deed of some base compan- 
ion, and are sinking lower in ignorance instead of 
advancing higher ; who are intent only upon revelry 
and dissipation ; who, by passion and appetite un- 
restrained, are blotting out the human shape divine ; 
but who, if there had been awakened early, when 
the mind was fresh and pure as the opening blos- 
som, some aspiration for mental development which 
should act as an impetus, might have made com- 
mendable progress in knowledge. We do not know 
how slight a circumstance may set in motion a train 
of events which shall decide the career of the man. 
Like the rivulet upon the top of the mountain, a 
twig, or bush, or the footprint of an animal may 
turn it on the one hand where it will descend gently 
through fresh pastures, bright sunny plots, and rich 
meadows, irrigating and gladdening as it goes ; or on 



238 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

No progress without desire. 

the other, will divert it where rocks and barrenness 
hnrl it in devious ways, until it is finally lost deep 
down amid the caverns and darkness of the moun- 
tain. How many there are about us who actually 
squander the time and opportunities in their pos- 
session, and permit the faculties given them to rust 
out in absolute idleness and inanity ; who sleep and 
loll upon sofas one half of their time at least, and 
spend the remainder in small talk and belittleing 
thoughts ; who by a judicious direction of youthful 
energy, might, instead of being dwarfs and pigmies, 
advance to the proportions of generous and thinking 
manhood. 

In considering that part of our subject which re- 
lates to the disposition of mind, we perceive that the 
spirit of man can never make progress in any direc- 
tion until there is a desire. One does not become a 
libertine or a debauchee until he begins to satisfy 
his tastes for those things which make one ; until he 
sees something in that course of life that gratifies his 
wishes, and is ready to put forth efibrt to satisfy 
them. On the contrary, a man can never become 
eminent for virtue until he loves the character of 
those who practice it ; until his imagination is ex- 
cited in admiration of goodness, and he has en- 
kindled in his bosom a desire to possess it. At 
the foundation of every successful system of edu- 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 239 

Thirst for knowledge. The rustic lad. 

cation there must be created a thirst for knowl- 
edge ; there must be a taste for intellectual pur- 
suits, a sense of the dignity and influence of mental 
culture. 

Many years ago, a rustic lad, in a remote town in 
Scotland, was sent to the metropolis with a message 
to a man of letters. He had been bred in obscurity, 
had rarely visited the village, and had never seen a 
city, with its mansions, and stately edifices, and pub- 
lic grounds with walks and fountains. His lot had 
been one of want and poverty, his clothes home- 
spun, his fare coarse. He had known nothing of in- 
tellectual improvementj for he had been blessed with 
no intellectual advantages, and had heard only the 
coarse and vulgar talk of unlettered and ill-bred 
husbandmen. He was ushered into the study of 
the nobleman. He saw rare paintings and marble 
sculptures of renowned men, his papers and man- 
uscripts, his books and charts. The scenes were 
novel ; his heart heaved with new-born emotions ; 
he secretly vowed that the splendid equipage of the 
scholar should one day be his. 

The boy returned to his obscure habitation, bat 
the beautiful vision went with him. His mind had 
received an impulse, — a new desire was in his heart. 
With irrepressible energy of soul he toils on, anxious- 
ly waiting for that day to come when he shall be free 



240 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

His vision realized^ Lesson taught. Idea of utility. 

from parental obligations, shall have the command 
of his own resources, and be at liberty to direct them 
to what end he pleases. During the long and weary 
day the bright vision is before him. His faculties 
are all awake, and he reasons out many a process 
before he reads it in any book. The youth grows to 
be a man, — he obtains public consideration, — he sits 
in Parliament, — -he becomes a peer of the realm, — 
he possesses a mansion and pleasure grounds, — ^he 
collects a library and paintings finer than, he had 
dreamed in his most sanguine hour. His vision 
was realized, his youthful desire was satisfied. 

From an incident like this we learn a principle of 
human nature. The life of a single individual is in 
some sort an index of a propensity of the race ; and 
we may derive therefrom truthful lessons which are 
of universal application, and which may save us 
much speculation and theorizing, and tedious exper- 
iment. It is not our first purpose to impose tasks, 
and to insist upon a rigid and exact verbal perform- 
ance of them, as we would teach, a brute governed by 
instinct ; but it is our primary object to create a de- 
sire, so that the youth may approach the task with 
a true idea of its utiHty, with a manly resolution, 
and 

" not like the quarry-slave at night 

Scourged to his dungeon." 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 241 

Irresolution. Friends of the Frencli officer. 

If this desire for improvement be united with a res- 
olute purpose that will not be daunted or repressed, 
it will necessarily result in progress, in noble at- 
tainments. Without this latter element, the rich- 
est powers of mind are useless. Many a youth has 
formed the desire, and has looked with a wishful eye 
towards that eminence where stand the good and 
great of all ages and climes, but has not possessed 
resolution enough to take the first step toward reach- 
ing it. There have probably been many good poems 
planned, and a few lines of the first cantos written. 
Visions as grand and lofty as ever filled the poet's 
eye have flitted in the fancy, but the poet's pen has 
never turned them to shapes, and he dies, leaving 
Milton still in the clear upper sky. The plea of the 
eloquent advocate, in a cause that cries for justice, 
has perhaps awakened in him a desire and a reso- 
lutely formed purpose to promote its ends with tran- 
scendant abilities. But he has formed a thousand 
purposes with equal resolution, and not one of them 
has ever been carried to its completion, and this one 
likewise shares their fate. Many have desired to 
be like Moses, leaders of the people. They think 
very favorably of their own fitness for such a posi- 
tion, and of their own superior skill to manage and 
direct, but they neglect to do any deed which will 

manifest their ability. The friends of a certain 

11 



242 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Eeply of Napoleon. " Makes no sign." 

French officer besought ISTapoleon to confer on him 
the marshal's baton. Napoleon asked them what he 
had ever done. They replied that he had never 3'et 
done any thing, but that he had great ability, and 
they thought that he would one day do some noble 
deed. " Well," said Napoleon, " wait till he does." 

The mind of youth is not easily brought under con- 
trol. It has a disposition to wander. Until strict 
habits are formed, he finds a feeling of indolence 
preying upon all his plans for improvement. Hav- 
ing the desire to press forward and having given his 
time to the work, he feels ashamed to squander it, 
even if he is held accountable to no one. But how 
ready he is to abandon his tasks on the slightest 
pretext, and for the most trivial excuse that will ac- 
quit him before the tribunal of self. Thus he fritters 
away the precious hours. He is very exact about 
the performance of minor duties. He is kind and 
obsequious to friends, but he leaves undone the great 
duties of life, and he dies and " makes no sign." 

We have thus far considered the temper of mind 
which must exist in the learner, in order that what 
has been taught him may become permanent knowl- 
edge. We come now to treat the second division of 
our subject, which embraces the various methods 
of presenting knowledge to the pupil. The means 
which have been adopted in this country, for the 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 243 



Pilgrim Fathers. 



general diffusion of knowledge, whether from public 
provision, or from private munificence, have in gen- 
eral been crowned with flattering success. We have 
the advantage of the experience of all other nations. 
We are trying the latest experiment in civilization, 
with a new model of government. To those ideas 
which we gain from abroad, we add our own reflec- 
tions and digest our systems. To some of those 
means of communicating knowledge vvhich have 
been adopted among us, I shall now allude. 

Of the first importance are our common schools. 
To these, the populace as well as the higher classes, 
are deeply indebted for whatever of education they 
possess. When the Pilgrim Fathers landed on Plym- 
outh Rock, they raised their voices in thanksgiving 
to God for their deliverance from persecution and the 
dangers of the ocean, and erected a church in which 
they might worship Him. But, hard by the village 
church they built the school-house and established 
the village school. Their primary devotion was to 
the worship of God, their secondary to the education 
of their children. To our Pilgrim Fathers belongs 
the honor of first having established by the laws of 
the State these two principles, — that each man should 
worship how, when, and whom he pleased, without 
compulsion or restraint, and pay no taxes to support 
a ministry except such as he should impose upon 



244 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Eoger Williams. Scholars of antiquity. 

himself; and, second, that all the children of the 
State should be educated at the public expense. For 
the former of these we are indebted to Eoger Wil- 
liams and the State of Khode Island; for the latter to 
the early settlers of Massachusetts. Never before 
had these two principles been promulgated by any 
nation upon earth. 

There were indeed schools and systems of educa- 
tion in the States of antiquity. There were men in 
those times, who possessed as much mental culture, 
and as great scope of thought and political sagacity, 
as any in our own time. Pericles was as fine an 
orator and consummate a statesman as was Burke or 
the younger Pitt. Cicero was as able a lawyer and 
as accomplished a rhetorician as our own Webster. 
But while there were a few who possessed the means 
of prosecuting their studies in the celebrated schools 
of those days, of becoming finished scholars, and who 
uttered thoughts that have withstood the shock of 
upwards of twenty centuries, and that are now stud- 
ied and admired as the choicest productions of the 
human mind, there was a vast populace who lived 
and died in ignorance, fit instruments of universal 
slavery and vassalage. The pupils of Socrates and 
Plato could loiter in the groves of the Academy, and 
about the porches of the temples ; but a great major- 
ity of the nation must sweat and labor on during the 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 245 

Value of every human soul. 

long day, blessing the night which relieved them of 
toil ; and little cared the philosopher and statesman 
how helots lived, or how helots died. 

But when the Pilgrim Fathers came to these shores, 
thev brought with them an overwhelming sense of 
religious obligation. They took the Bible as their 
counsel and guide, and in accordance with that gos- 
pel which Jesus Christ came upon earth to promul- 
gate, they looked upon every human being as of in- 
estimable worth. Actuated by those principles and 
motives which are there displayed, they held fellow- 
ship with every human soul* as an image of the di- 
vine being, freighted with immortal hopes, and des- 
tined to endless existence like themselves. The idea 
that the child of the rich man was better than that of 
the poor found no place in their code. Hence they 
enacted, among their first laws, that every child 
should be educated at the public expense, in a com- 
mon school, where the rich and the poor, the high 
and the low, should share in common privileges, and 
where the only insignia of rank should be worn by 



* " Therefore respect humanity in all its members, for in all its 
members is the divine ray of intelligence, and there is an essential 
confraternity in the unity of the fundamental ideas which tlie most 
immediate development of reason produces." — History of Modern Phi- 
losophy^ Cousin, vol. L, page 134. 



246 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Eqality in the common school. Success of merit. 

him who, bj devotion to learning, should aspire to 
the noble qualities of the scholar. 

It is the glory of that system that it draws all 
classes together and places them upon a common 
level. It brings the whole collection of minds into 
collision, and says to them, he alone shall conquer 
who most nobly strives. There have been objec- 
tions raised to the system of common schools by 
those who by wealth or birth feel something of the 
aristocratic notion. Their children will be contami- 
nated by contact, and will imbibe the notions of the 
ignoble throng. It would be equally reasonable to 
shut a boy up in a tight, warm room, for fear that the 
damp and cold of the out-door weather would injure 
his constitution, when everybody knows that if you 
wish him to be healthy and robust you must let him 
take the rough and tumble of life, and inhale copious 
draughts of the fresh, free air, damp and cold though 
it may be. If children are allowed to imbibe into 
their mental constitutions the idea that they are bet- 
ter than other children, if they are taught to draw 
lines and marks of distinction based upon wealth or 
birth, they may, in mature years, be convinced by 
some luckless urchin whom they were encouraged to 
despise, that they have missed their calculations; 
that he is the nobleman, and they are the base and 
ignoble slaves, the slaves to pride and arrogance. 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 247 

Parental restraint. Common school acquaints us with human nature. 

The joutli ma}^ be kept for a while from mingling 
with those of his own age, and be educated in the 
family. But a time will come when parental re- 
straint must fail. He will go forth and find asso- 
ciates, and he then will be at that age when imagi- 
nation is strongest and the passions most impetuous, 
and when he will have the least power to withstand 
temptation. He will then be a fit subject for the 
tempter. Flattered by the attentions of the genteel 
but wily villain, he falls an easy prey to his deceitful 
charms. Having been taught to hold in contempt 
those beneath him in rank, and never having en- 
gaged in tussles of physical and intellectual strength, 
he has no experience for estimating his powers, and 
is by no means so well prepared to act manfully his 
part in life as one, who, from infancy has joined in 
friendly strife with those with whom he will necessa- 
rily mingle in after years, either as his equals in abil- 
ity and influence, or as the objects of his regard and 
charity. 

The common school acquaints us with human na- 
ture. He who has passed through the several grades 
knows something of what he is to expect of man- 
kind when he enters upon the active duties of life. 
In general, the motives which actuate boys will ac- 
tuate men, and he shapes his course in his dealings 
with the latter, according to his experience with the 



248 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Its success. France and Spain. 

former. It has a tendency also to break up those 
artificial lines and distinctions* in society which are 
its bane ; lines and distinctions which may exist in 
other countries, and be permanent when upheld by 
despotic power and the force of custom, but which, 
in our country, can last only for a generation or 
two at most, and which have no value founded upon 
right. 

The common school is the offspring of this nation 
and of our fathers. The wisdom of the institution may 
be seen in the general diffusion of knowledge among 
us, in the success which has attended our elective 
form of government, and the progress which is seen 
in every branch of art and industry. Why do we 
so often hear it remarked that France and Spain, 
and those other nations of Europe, are not prepared 



* "One invaluable merit of out-door sports is to be found in this, 
that they afford the best cement for childish friendship. Their asso- 
ciations outlive all others. There is many a man, now perchance 
hard and worldly, whom we love to pass in the street simply because 
in meeting him we meet spring flowers and autumn chestnuts, skates 
and cricket balls, cherry-birds and pickerel. There is an indescriba- 
ble fascination in the gradual transference of these childish compan- 
ionships into maturer relations. We love to encounter, in the contests 
of manhood, those whom we first met at football, and to follow the 
profound thoughts of those who always dived deeper, even in the 
river, than our efforts could attain." — Atlantic Monthly, March, 1858, 
page 589. 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 249 

Foundation of the republic. Improvements. 

for civil liberty? It is because the masses of the 
people are not educated. The systems of education 
which prevail there, even to the books and news- 
papers, are under the control of priest-craft and 
king-craft, and these well know that the best means 
of effecting their security is to keep the people in 
ignorance, or to instruct them in those dogmas 
which are alike false in theory and damning in 
practice. Our security and prosperity as a nation 
must depend upon the excellence of our common 
schools. If the influence of these is weakened or 
destroyed we undermine the very foundation of the 
republic. They are to the body politic what the 
arteries are to the human system, which convey 
nourishment to every part, and were these cut off, 
the heart of the nation would cease to beat. 

Within a few years there have been vast im- 
provements made in our common schools. Eeports 
of the secretaries of the boards of education and 
the superintendents of public schools in the several 
States have been printed and circulated, in which 
are embodied the statistics, the experience and prog- 
ress of the year, reflections upon the failure or suc- 
cess of the various methods adopted, with recom- 
mendations for the guidance of future efforts, plans 
for school-houses and cuts of furniture, the best 

methods of heating and ventilation ; and by means 

11* 



250 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Teachers' institutes. Well-being of schools. 

of these a vast amount of reliable information has 
been circulated among tlie people. Normal schools 
have been established, in which teachers have been 
thoroughly instructed in the theory and practice of 
teaching, and prepared expressly for their profes- 
sion. Teachers' conventions and institutes have 
been held, in whicb the most eminent teachers and 
professors have been employed to instruct, and to 
impart to their brethren the elements of their own 
success, in some instances being paid by the State 
for their services, and in others freely giving their 
time and energies for the promotion of so noble an 
object. As a consequence scbool-houses have been 
vastly improved and furnished for the health and 
comfort of the students. Apparatus and libraries 
have been provided, and all the means of advance- 
ment have been lavished upon the system. 

It is only by a combination of sucb means, and 
by sucb exertions, that we can derive from it full 
and legitimate results. We can not look after the 
interests and well-being of our common schools 
with too much solicitude. Each, man should feel 
that he has a personal interest in them. His dear- 
est affections should cling about them as being the 
nurseries of the thoughts and feelings of his chil- 
dren. He should look upon the teacher as his 
friend, laboring for his interests, and should incul- 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 251 

Defend the teacher. Interest in his work. 

cate into the minds of his children confidence and 
respect for him. He should never countenance in 
them a spirit of disobedience, and insubordination 
to wholesome restraint, but be ready to stand by the 
right, crush out the disposition to rebellion, and 
never see the teacher misused by those whom he is 
laboring to improve. 

The teacher on his part should feel that he can not 
be a drone in a common school. He should not 
feel that he has come into a neighborhood where 
he is to assemble with the youth and be a mas- 
ter over them for six hours a day, and then receive 
a certain sum of money for his authority. But he 
ought to realize that the parents of the district are 
placing confidence in his capacity and virtue, that 
they are entrusting to his care their children, their 
dearest and most cherished earthly possessions. 
They are expecting that he will be to those children 
a father, and will guide them in the ways of knowl- 
edge and truth, that he will carefully unfold their 
youthful faculties, that he will judiciously train and 
conscientiously correct. He ought to feel that he has 
a company of human souls from the hand of the 
Creator entrusted to his care, whose character he is 
to mould and fashion, and that he is not only respon- 
sible to those who employ him, but that he will 
one day be held to an account by the Judge of all 



252 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Mutual interest. Books and printed matter. 

the earth for the good or evil which he may have 
done, as well as for the opportunities for doing good 
which he has neglected. He ought to feel that the 
day is not long enough for the accomplishment of the 
great work entrusted to him, and be willing to make 
any sacrifice of ease and comfort for their benefit. 
If such feelings could mutually exist between patrons 
and scholars, and teachers, we need never despair of 
the prosperity and ultimate success of the common 
school. 

The second means for the diffusion of knowledge 
to which I shall allude, is that of books and printed 
matter. Since the invention of the art of printing, 
this method of communication has been regularly in- 
creasing in power. At no period has that power been 
so great as at the present, especially in this country. 
Previous to the invention of the art, there were few 
books, and those were in the hands of only a few 
learned men, their possession being a matter of little 
consequence to the great mass of the people, who had 
never learned to read. The price of a book was 
very great, as each copy had to be transcribed with 
the pen. 

It is with difficulty that we can imagine the con- 
dition of a great and CDlightened nation existing 
without newspapers. The people of Athens were 
accustomed to meet in the market-Dlace, where, if 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 253 

" What is the news?" Speeches in Parliament and Congress. 

any thing had happened out of the ordinary course of 
events, it flew from mouth to mouth until the whole 
city knew of it. Their own historians tell us that the 
first question of an Athenian was, *' What is the 
news?" It was no doubt from this anxiety to learn 
the earliest intelligence of what was passing, and the 
scene presented by the populace gathering in crowds 
and knots to learn the particulars of some great 
event, that Eumor is personified by the Grrecian po- 
ets, and is represented as a sleepless divinity mov- 
ing amid crowds of people, arousing and exciting 
their minds. There were some advantages in this 
method of learning the news over that which we 
have. Those interested would be likely to hear from 
all sides of the question ; all the circumstances would 
be brought out and discussed, and the opinions of 
leading men would be known. 

By our own method we hear in effect but from one 
mind, with such coloring and bias as he may see fit 
to give it, unless we take several papers. Knowl- 
edge is however more wisely difi'used by ours than 
we could hope to have it by any other. When a 
speech is made in Parliament at night, the mails of 
the morning scatter it over the whole kingdom. 
Not unfrequently is the first portion of a speech de- 
livered in Congress being read by the people of New 
York and Boston, while the member is making the 



254 POPULAE EDUCATION. 

Facilities for diffusing knowledge. Intellectual vim. 

concluding portion of it. Not a circumstance of 
note happens, but the newspaper carries intelligence 
of it to everj part of the world. 

The question has been frequently raised, whether 
our increased facilities for diffusing knowledge, and 
the consequent increase in printed matter, have made 
us really more learned than those of ancient nations. 
If the question be whether we have as many very 
eminent thinkers, it is an open one, for the best orig- 
inal thinkers of our time are men of limited general 
information. Many a boarding school miss has read 
more volumes than the best intellectual philosopher 
in the country. Of course much new knowledge has 
been added from generation to generation, to our ac- 
cumulating store, and hence our educated men have 
a broader and truer basis upon which to found their 
reasonings and investigations, and may consequently 
arrive at a greater amount of positive knowledge. 
Whether this increase of printed matter has aug- 
mented the mental energy — the intellectual vim — 
may be a matter of doubt. But if we consider the 
aggregate of knowledge, we must decide vastly in 
favor of our time. Many a school-boy might have 
instructed Plato or even Locke. 

It is almost needless to observe in this connection, 
that there is much printed that ought never to meet 
the eye of youth. To say^ nothing of that class of 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 255 

Remark of Carlyle. Provision of books. Taste developed. 

books which is positively evil in its tendency, which 
is debasing and demorahzing to the heart, the taste, 
and the intellect ; maay a man would have died bet- 
ter satisfied with himself, and his heirs infinitely bet- 
ter pleased, had he committed his manuscripts to the 
flames instead of the hands of the printer. 

It has been wisely said by Mr. Carlyle, that "the 
true university of these days is a library of good 
books." The responsibility which rests upon paients 
of furnishing suitable books for the family is not 
generally realized. Many men think the purchase 
of a book a needless expenditure of money ; be- 
lieving either that it will not be read, or if it is, 
that it is thenceforth good for nothing, nay worse 
than nothing, for it occupies space which might be 
devoted to some other purpose. 

The history of many a youth, if carefully traced, 
would teach parents a duty they owe to their chil- 
dren in providing intellectual food suited to the 
several stages of mental development. There is 
manifested in every youth, at some period, an incli- 
nation to read. If the right kind of matter is not fur- 
nished when this disposition is developed, that kind 
may be procured which will act as a poison or a 
loathsome drug. How many a culprit and degraded 
villain has dated the beginning of his evil days to the 
reading of some obscene book, borrowed from a 



256 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Biography and history. The newspaper. 

companion and read stealtiiilj. From its degrading 
thouglits and pictures, his fancy, full of the impet- 
uous vigor of youth, has been fired with lust and 
passion that has only ceased to burn with his ruin. 

Every parent, every farmer, every mechanic and 
laboring man, ought to provide a few choicely se- 
lected books, that shall be accessible to the members 
of his family. If they are not read at one time, 
they may be at another. If he does not feel capable 
of selecting them himself, let him apply to some judi- 
cious friend for aid. Do not buy a book for its fine 
binding, or because it is recommended by some itin- 
erant peddler. Better have no books than those 
which are bad, or even indifferent. The biographies 
of good and noble men, and histories of interesting 
periods in human affairs, are the species which will 
be most attractive and most useful to the young. 
The first book that I ever read in course was the life 
of Benjamin Franklin. I read it and re-read it, until 
I knew it by heart ; and the reading of that one book 
created within me a thirst for knowledge which I 
hope will never be quenched. 

It is also necessary that there be provided in every 
family the means of acquiring acpurate knowledge of 
current events. For this purpose a newspaper, which 
keeps a faithful record of what is passing in this and 
foreign countries, should be obtained. If the news- 



POPULAll EDUCATION. 257 

Love story. Public lectures. 

papers of the county fail to furnish such record, if 
they pander to a depraved taste — if, instead of sup- 
plying matter which shall encourage a desire for 
elevated literature and morality, they contain tales 
of passion improbable as untrue, throw them aside 
and send to the city for one that shall meet your 
wants. N'o journal or periodical is worthy of 
patronage, that does not commend itself to reason 
and sober thought, to candid and virtuous intelli- 
gence. We can never have a high-toned morality 
and a purified intellectual taste, until the common 
people, the laboring classes, better understand their 
duties, and have the inclination, yea, the resolution to 
perform them. 

I come now to consider the third means for the 
diffusion of knowledge — that of public lectures. This 
method of imparting instruction has, within a few 
years past, grown to importance with surpassing ra- 
pidity. There is scarcely a city or a village of any 
spirit in the land, that has not during the winter one 
or more courses of public lectures from eminent men. 
Lecturing has become a profession. There are many 
men who make it their business to prepare in the 
summer a number of well-digested lectures, which 
they are employed to deliver during the winter. 

There is one advantage in this manner of instruc- 
tion not possessed by any other. The thinker him- 



258 POPULA.R EDUCATION. 

EflFects of lectures . Error of lecturers. 

self comes into the immediate presence of those whom 
he would instruct. To the thoughts themselves are 
added the effects of the tones of the voice, and the 
accompanying look and gesture which constitute a 
natural language of emotion. The influence which 
one carefully-prepared lecture, pronounced by a bold, 
fearless orator may produce, is incalculable. It may 
set in motion a train of thoughts which will modify 
or change the tone of life, not only of a single indi- 
vidual, but of a whole audience. An accomplished 
public speaker has the power of taking captive the 
minds of his auditory, and swaying them at will by 
the force of his inspiration. 

There is one error of lecturers to which I must 
refer ; it is that of framing the speech so that it may 
create sensation, to the sacrifice of some leading 
thought. Pleased with the applause which one 
stroke of wit has called forth, he determines on the 
next occasion to out-Eichard Kichard. He therefore 
prepares a plum-pudding, and puts nothing in but 
plums. He reasons like the Irishman, who took a 
pill on retiring at night for some indisposition, 
and in the morning, finding himself better, con- 
cluded that if one pill had helped him, a whole box 
would make him well, and died under the operation. 
The experiment is a dangerous one, and he who 
makes it is liable to share the fate of poor Pat. It 



POPULAE EDUCATION. 259 

N.'* ■ — 

Other objects of education. Spirit of Washiugton. 

should be the object of the lecturer to instruct as well 
as to please. He should endeavor to create a sound 
and healthful public taste, rather than stoop to a de- 
praved one which already exists. He should lead in 
the right way, rather than be led in the wrong. 

I have thus briefly alluded to a few of the means 
of education. As you perceive, I have treated only 
of those which are employed for training the mental 
faculties. I hope it will not be inferred that this is 
all that is embraced in the term education. There 
are the moral sensibilities, the manners, the habits, 
and all those qualities which unite to form the char- 
acter of a well-bred person, which are of equal im- 
portance with the training of the intellectual facul- 
ties, and which must form a constituent part of every 
successful system. But this part of my subject I must 
leave undisturbed. 

These systems of education which were adopted 
by the fathers of the republic, and which have been 
developed and improved during subsequent time, 
have been fruitful of wonders. Under the influence 
and stimulus of these institutions, our nation has 
prospered beyond any other on the face of the earth. 
If the spirit of the sainted Washington could now 
descend and visit us, could behold the improvement 
and progress which has been made, and could look 
through the length and breadth of our land, now 



260 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Uphold theso institutions. Crime in 1S54. 

grown to a , giant nation stretching from ocean to 
ocean, he would hardly believe that this is the de- 
velopment of those thirteen little colonies whose in- 
dependence he fought to establish, and whose integ- 
rity he prayed for and labored to maintain. And 
who can say that this prosperity and growth would 
ever have been attained without our educational 
systems ? It is then the part of wisdom to uphold 
these institutions. It is our duty to cherish them, 
and build them np as the instruments of our suc- 
cess. Where is it that we find most misery and 
degradation, and fewest of the comforts of life ? It 
is where there is most ignorance. Where, on the 
other hand, do we find the greatest prosperity, — 
where do we find those communities that stand in 
the very first rank, and take the lead in civiliza- 
tion ? It is in those nooks and corners of the earth 
where the spirit of education and improvement has 
taken up her abode, where she is permitted to dwell 
in peace and honor, and where she is cherished and 
loved. 

During the year 1854, one hundred and sixty five 
men were hung in the United States for murder. Of 
this number only seven could read and write I What 
a lesson ! And will you, parents, neglect to educate 
your children? Will you allow any opportunities 
to pass unimproved, to draw out and expand their 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 261 

Hard silver. Fable of the miser. 

youthful faculties, to lift them up into a higher 
and nobler life, to raise them above the dead level 
of the beast that creeps, and enable them to know 
something of the godlike and the divine ? The 
parent sometimes thinks that if he can lay up a little 
hard silver, which his sons and daughters can use 
after he is gone, he is conferring upon them the 
greatest earthly blessing. 

There is a fable in a French school-book which 
reads thus : — A miser being dead and decently 
buried, arrived upon the borders of the river Styx 
in order to pass over with the other spirits, the com- 
panions of his voyage. The boatman, Charon, de- 
manded of him the price of the passage, but was 
surprised to see that, instead of paying it, he threw 
himself into the black river and swam to the shore, 
in spite of all the entreaties that could be made. 
This action put all hell in a tumult, and each judge 
endeavored to find a punishment proportioned to a 
crime, the consequences of which would be so dis- 
astrous to the revenues of the infernal regions. " Let 
us chain him to the rock with Prometheus, where the 
birds may perpetually tear his vitals," said one. " Let 
us associate him with the torments of Tantalus," said 
another. *' Or, what is better, let us send him to aid 
Sjsiphus in rolling his rock up the hill, which rolls 
back as often as he rolls it up." "No, no," said 



262 POPULAR EDUCATION. 

Intelligence the guide of the world. 

Minos, the supreme judge, "let us invent a punish- 
ment more terrible ; let us send him back to earth, 
to see what use his prodigal heirs make of his 
riches." 

Ignorance, when put in possession of wealth, is 
often the instrument of evil. But knowledge will 
make its possessor an honor to his race, and will 
enable him to obtain wealth if he desire it. Active 
intelligence is a safe investment. It needs no in- 
surance, for it is beyond the reach of fire and flood. 
Intelligence guides the business of the world. Who 
is it that in your town-meetings takes the lead in 
managing business, suggests the best plans, and ad- 
vocates the soundest policy ? Who is it that repre- 
sents you in Congress, sits upon the judges' bench, 
and fills the various offices of honor and trust ? It 
is the man of intelligence. Who on the contrary 
fill your alms-houses and jails and penitentiaries ? 
The men who are debased by ignorance and crime. 
Intelligence is the first element of prosperity. In- 
telligence builds our factories, and invents the ma- 
chinery with which to fill them. It constructs our 
railroads, and places upon them models of beauty 
and monuments of the skill of man. It stretches 
the wire of the telegraph and teaches us to talk 
with the lightning. It enables the farmer to make 
two spears of grass grow where but one grew before. 



POPULAR EDUCATION. 263 

Conclusion. 

It puts a better plow in his ground, better imple- 
ments in all his labors, and thereby saves a vast 
amount of the wear of muscle and weariness of 
nerve of both man and beast. It gives to the pos- 
sessor that confidence in his abilities, and that re- 
spect for self, which raises us in the scale of being. 
It makes the earth seem brighter, the foliage richer, 
the bird's song sweeter, its plumage more gaudy, the 
colors of the flower more brilliant. It is the result 
of that improvement of the talents entrusted to us 
for which we shall be accountable. It yields us that 
satisfaction which prosperity may heighten but which 
adversity can never take away. It enables us to in- 
terpret the purposes and designs of the Creator, and 
to approximate nearer to his character. It soothes 
sorrow, tempers the asperities of disposition, mends 
the broken threads of life, smoothes the rough places 
in the mind and heart, and softens the pathway to 
the tomb. 



LECTURE VIII. 

THE EDUCATION OF THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 

Delivered at the Dedication of the Nkw School Edifice at Tittjsville, 

1859. 

IT is a custom hallowed by long usage, to dedicate 
our churclies to the purposes of religious service. 
On this account we regard the church with different 
feelings from those entertained towards any other 
place. It is sacred in our minds as the house of God, 
the gate to heaven. It is here that the voice of in- 
spiration speaks to us. Here the father assem- 
bles with his family, where they join their voices in 
songs of praise, and learn that wisdom which cometh 
from above, which will make us wise indeed. There 
is a sacred feeling which comes over us when we 
enter the place thus consecrated, and we are filled 
with better thoughts. ISTot that the service of dedi- 
cation has rendered the church more holy than any 
other place. But the thoughts we there think, and 
the desires and aspirations we there cherish are more 
holy. The place is united to us by sacred associa- 
tions, and the spirit of devotion fills it in proportion 



THE MOEAL SENSIBILITIES. 265 
Dedication of the church. Dedication of the school-house. 

as that spirit fills our own hearts. The custom of 
dedicating our school edifices to the purposes of 
education is not so common. But the propriety 
can be established upon the same principles, and 
will apply with equal force. The school-house 
should be held in veneration, because our minds 
are there occupied with the truths of science. It 
is the place devoted to the culture of the mental 
faculties, the spiritual nature, that part of us which 
is imperishable. Here we discipline those faculties 
so noble in power, so expansive in design, which the 
Creator has beneficently bestowed upon us. Here 
are developed and strengthened those gifts which at 
birth are so weak and feeble. Here we become ac- 
quainted with all those laws which have been es- 
tablished for the government of the world of matter 
and of mind. It is here that we acquaint ourselves 
with every species of knowledge which can lift man 
above the brute, and advance him towards those per- 
fections which characterize the angels and God him- 
self. If such be the purpose of the school-house, and 
such the thoughts which there fill our minds, we 
ought to honor the place. It should be linked in our 
hearts with sunny memories. Our fondest affections 
should linger about it, and it should be set apart by 
exercises of learning and wisdom to these noble pur- 
poses. 

12 



266 THE EDUCATION OF 

Contempt. Marks of the jack-knife. The log school-house. 

The youtli- often looks upon the school-bonse with 
feelings of aversion and contempt. He regards it 
as public property, and a fit object for the spoiler. 
The marks of his ruthless hand prove his utter 
disregard of its honor and sanctity. Its broken 
windows attest liis disposition to pelt it with stones, 
and his skill with, charcoal is displayed upon its 
weather-beaten sides. The seats and desks set up 
for bis accommodation, while preparing to fill some 
exalted station, as every fond mother hopes, and 
to erect 



" monumentum sere perennius, 

Kegalique situ pyramidium altius ;" 

display evident marks of his jack-knife, where he has 
by persevering efforts wrought shapes which do in- 
finite honor to his skill with that useful instrument, 
and rival in artistic merit Grsecian frieze and archi- 
trave ; but alas ! his brain- work is far less imposing, 
and the memory of his school-days soon sinks into 
oblivion, or is only perpetuated by the stripes on his 
back. 

The indifference which is manifested towards the 
school-house is, in too many instances, founded upon 
sufi&cient reasons. Formerly it was a poor hut, often 
built of logs, cold, cheerless and dark, situated upon 
the verge of a road trodden into a quagmire during 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 267 
Cheerless aspect. The school. 

a greater portion of the year, with no grounds, or 
shade-trees, or out-buildings, destitute of every kind 
of convenient furniture or apparatus within, and pre- 
senting a dare-devil and repulsive air without. It 
would be difficult to attach any reverence to the 
place, even if the disposition existed. The very 
thought of it makes one shake the dust from his feet. 
The picture of the long rough board sbnting from 
the wall, and the slab seat supported by four ugly- 
looking legs, sets the pains and agonies capering up 
the spinal cord ; and the remembrance of the cold 
frostj^ mornings spent there, puts the teeth chattering 
on a summer day. 

The school was often very much after the pattern 
of the house. It was thought economy to employ 
the services of a man who was cheap, rather than one 
who was competent. His capacity was measured by 
his ability to twist the locks and wring the ears of 
his pupils, rather than by his power to twist difficult 
problems into intelligible shapes and ring the changes 
upon the truths of science. His authority in preserv- 
ing order was estimated more by the thickness of the 
soles of his boots, than by the sensibilities of the 
soul that filled his bosom. Tasks were imposed and 
forced upon unwilling minds. In place of that in- 
terest which the skillful teacher imparts to every 
study, came the harsh complaint of the pupil that the 



268 THE EDUCA'riON OF 



Teacher's lack of interest. Change, Consoling reflection. 



lessons were Lard and drj. There was no throbbing 
of the heart at a triumph achieved over doubt and 
difficulty, for the pupil was not encouraged to mas- 
ter a difficulty, and never knew when he had 
triumphed. There was no beaming of the eye 
which follows when those sublime truths are pre- 
sented that make the breast of him who appreciates 
them to throb with enkindling emotions, for the 
teacher himself had little such knowledge to im- 
part, and with such emotions his own bosom never 
heaved. 

It is a consoling reflection to the patriot and the 
Christian, that a great change has taken place in the 
spirit of the people, and in the intelligence and zeal 
of the teachers. The latter now spends freely his 
time and his substance in preparing himself to dis- 
charge with fidelity the arduous, the responsible, and 
the perplexing duties which are to devolve upon 
him. He seeks a thorough acquaintance with the 
branches of a liberal course of training. He searclies 
out the most ingenious methods of explaining the 
difficult questions that arise, and plans the most 
attractive style of presenting his knowledge to pupils 
who have never known what it is to be interested in 
sludy. He devises expedients for bringing the way- 
ward to a sense of shame, and wins him by gentle 
and persuasive means to a course of rectitude and 



THE MOEAL SENSIBILITIES. 269 

Corresponding change of feeling in the scholar. 

honor. He is fired witli a noble enthusiasm in his 
labor, which he regards as a most delightful employ- 
ment of his faculties, rather than a task and a drud- 
gery. He loves most of all to be surrounded by his 
pupils, to see them interested in his instructions, and 
be satisfied that they appreciate as he does their force 
and bearing. He enjoys the pleasing work of lead- 
ing them forth to taste the delights of learning, and 
to realize that he is enstamping his own character 
upon theirs, that he is fixing in their young and 
tender minds his thoughts and opinions, his tastes 
and habits, and that he is creating in them an in- 
fluence and a motive power that shall outlive him — 
that shall widen and deepen to the end of time. 

As a result of this improvement in spirit and capa- 
city on the part of the teacher, there is a correspond- 
ing change in the feelings and desires of the scholar. 
He finds his tasks easy because they interest him, 
and he is eager to feel all that satisfaction in his stud- 
ies which he sees beaming in the countenance of his 
teacher, as often as he explains or touches upon them. 
He loves to encounter the difficulties of science, for 
there is the field of his triumphs, from which he 
bears away proud trophies. Instead of being hard 
and dry, he finds his labors most pleasing and de- 
lightful, and his path strewn with flowers instead of 
thorns. 



270 THE EDUCATION OF 

The new school-house. This edifice. Its spire greets the eye. 

The people are not behind in the spirit of improve- 
ment. They have learned to honor, the school-house 
themselves, that they may with propriety impose it 
as a duty upon their children. In the recent struc- 
tures a commendable taste has been exercised. A 
pleasant site has been selected, elevated, commodious 
and attractive. They have secured a generous piece 
of ground, in most cases not less than an acre. They 
have planted it with shade-trees, and, nicely grading, 
have sown it with a carpet of green. The structure 
itself, a model of taste and beauty, light and airy, 
graceful in proportion, and of approved architecture, 
stands as a monument of the liberality and public 
spirit of the neighborhood. Maps adorn its walls, 
and books and charts and apparatus are furnished the 
teacher with which to render his work successful. 
Thus they provide, that the sacrifices they are mak- 
ing may return in blessings upon the heads of their 
children. 

As a proof of the spirit which prevails, we can point 
with pride and satisfaction to this edifice which we 
have now met to dedicate to the pursuits of learning. 
Central in location, convenient in arrangement and 
divisjon, simple but attractive in architecture, sub- 
stantially built and tastefully finished, it commands 
the respect alike of citizen and stranger. Its taper 
spire, pointing heavenward, first greets the eye of the 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 271 
The lawn. The shades. Education in its higher sense. 

traveler as lie approaches this beautiful valley, and is 
the last object that lingers in the vision as he leaves it. 
The lawn, which you have provided, will be the scene 
of artless and playful sport, and generations of chil- 
dren will be happy because of it. The trees which you 
have planted may not grow to shelter you, but your 
children and your children's children shall sport be- 
neath their shade, and when grown venerable with age 

" "Will mind them of departed joys, 
Departed never to return." 

You plant and build for the future. There is a plea- 
sure and a satisfaction in the thought. You furnish 
for posterity a better chance for education than you 
had yourselves. You labor to leave the world bet- 
ter than you found it. The time will come when 
your w^ork shall perish, and this noble edifice shall 
moulder into dust ; but the record of your efforts 
will be secure. It will be chronicled upon immortal 
spirits which shall here be educated, upon a material 
that knows no decay. 

Education, in the common acceptation of the term, 
has reference to that knowledge and discipline which 
is acquired by pursuing certain branches of study in a 
text-book at school. And when we speak of a com- 
mon school education we usually intend the expres- 
sion to comprehend a course of instruction in those 



272 THE EDUCATION OF 

The Pedagogue. Bard of the Deserted Village. 

branclies whicli the law provides shall be taught. 
Although this is a correct signification of the term in 
the restricted sense, it is far from embracing all that 
we ought to expect from a course of training that is 
to prepare one for that higher life, which, in man- 
hood and in a future state of existence, we should 
be prepared to live. The boy may be very good at 
arithmetic, but as he grows up he may make a very 
bad citizen and an unprofitable member of society. 
He may be an elegant grammarian, and still be- 
come a wretched husband and father. He may be 
an accomplished scholar in the Greek and Latin, 
and yet be dead to every noble sentiment that 
should fire the bosom of the patriot and the Chris- 
tian. 

That will prove a very unprofitable school for fit- 
ting children to be men and women, in which there 
is nothing learned but what is provided for by legal 
enactments. The teacher who can give no other in- 
struction than this, is unworthy of a place in a pro- 
fession whose office is to develop and train our 
spiritual natures with all their complication of de- 
sires and energies. Under the soubriquet of Peda- 
gogue such an one is everywhere the butt for mer- 
riment and ridicule, and the sweet bard of the 
Deserted Village has made him the object of his 
playful satire : 



THE MOKAL SENSIBILITIES. 273 
Book knowledge. Practical thinking. 

"The village all declared how much he knew: 
'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too ; 
Lands he could measure, times and tides presage, 
And e'en the storj ran that he could guage. 
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 
That one small head could carry all he knew." 

Education, in its more liberal sense, or if you 
choose to call it school-day culture, embraces a 
wider scope. It includes in the means employed, 
all those influences which can be brought to bear 
upon the mental and moral imj)rovement of the 
pupil. Its excellence must depend upon its adapta- 
tion to accomplish this result. In our haste to 
make our children wise, we are often blind to their 
real interests. We give them a great deal of book 
knowledge to a very little plain common sense. A 
routine of tasks monopolizes the time for practical 
thinking. The mind is jaded with Avords and rules 
and problems, in place of being energized and 
warmed by those thoughts and feelings which have 
inspired the benevolent and good in all times. It is 
quite as much a matter of education to learn a nice 
sense of honor in keeping one's word, as the most 
elaborate and complete explanation for extracting 
the cube root that has ever been discovered. That 
piece of knowledge which prompts us to for- 
give him who has done us an injury, is not less 

valuable than the precise whereabouts of Kamt- 

12* 



274 THE EDUCATION OF 

Moral nature needs culture. Often in use. 

scliatka or the South Sea. The spirit of brotherly 
love and generosity, that, spurning all mean and 
selfish motives, will sacrifice its own advantage for 
the happiness of another, or will dare even to peril 
life for the general weal, will be quite as servicable 
to a man as the ability to dispose of some knotty 
point in grammar. To love God and to keep his 
commandments is a lesson that we need thoroughly 
to learn and constantly to practice, more than all 
the sciences which human ingenuity has reduced to 
form. 

Leaving therefore those studies that are commonly 
taught at school, I purpose during the remainder of 
the passing hour to speak of the education of 
THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. We are possessed of 
a moral nature as well as mental powers, and the 
former need care and culture equally with the 
latter. In the exercise of the common duties of 
life, the moral powers are far more frequently 
brought into action than the mental. As often as 
man comes in contact with his fellow-man, he has 
occasion to display some of the motives by which 
he is governed. There are no text-books especially 
adapted to giving instruction in this department 
of culture, though the works of Mrs. Willard, and 
of Messrs. Cowdry and Hall, have of late sup- 
plied teachers with what has been felt to be a great 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 275 
Books on morals. Something constantly going wrong. Teacher will be heard. 

want, and may with mucli propriety and profit be 
used. But, though the teacher has no text-books to 
guide him in his instructions, there are abundant 
opportunities for impressing upon the young a sense 
of their duties and responsibihties, and of making 
virtue and honor respectable, yea, lovely in their 
eyes. In the affairs of a school there is something 
that is constantly going wrong and needs to be 
righted. A company of youth whose habits are all 
unfixed, vacillating in purpose, and weak in judg- 
ment, many of whom have had little or no correct 
training at home, and some even destitute of civil 
breeding, may be considered of all others the most 
fruitful of improprieties and errors, demanding the 
most frequent counsel and correction, and the most 
severely testing the virtue and faithfulness of him 
who is its leading spirit. 

There is no person from whom a word of advice, 
a caution against the violation of a moral duty, an 
appeal to the sensibilities, will be received and be 
impressed upon the pupil with such force, as from 
the lips of the faithful, conscientious, virtuous school- 
teacher. He will get his ears and reach his heart 
when no other man can. There is no other person 
who stands in a position in which the opportunities 
of giving such instruction are so abundant, and 
which must be considered by the teacher not merely 



276 THE EDUCATION OF 

Teacher's responsibilities. Love to God. Profanity. 

as opportunities wliich lie may improve or neglect, 
but as occasions imperatively demanding his guiding 
hand. When I think of the vast and responsible 
duties which properly devolve upon the teacher, and 
which so much need to be performed in addition to 
the regular routine of lessons, and remember the 
indifference and unconcern with which they are 
viewed by many who eagerly and unhesitatingly 
assume them, I tremble for the interests of the rising 
generation, and for the reckoning those teachers will 
finally make with the Judge of all the earth. For 
no man can assume a position of trust, without be- 
coming amenable to justice for a neglect of its most 
important duties. 

The first and highest of the moral ideas which 
should be instilled into the minds of children is that 
of love to Gocl. The propriety of this is so obvious 
that it does not need to be urged. And yet there 
are many teachers who never utter a word of coun- 
sel or entreaty to enforce the duty. His pupils may 
violate the Sabbath and hear no word of disapproval 
from him, and perchance he is guilty of the same 
offence himself. They may show a disregard, and 
positive contempt for their Maker by cursing his 
name, and he has not moral courage, or moral sensi- 
bility enough to admonish them of their open de- 
fiance and blasphem}^, and perchance, in moments of 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 277 

Alive to sensibility. The Scriptures. 

passion, or of folly, sucb. language is not an unknown 
toDgue to him. It may not be expedient for him to 
make a law that his pupils should not violate the 
Sabbath, or that they should not use profane lan- 
guage. I believe that it is not wise for him to make 
many arbitrary laws. But he can, by an appeal to 
their better feelings, make those vices appear mean 
and despicable, and particularly odious in the char- 
acter of the youth. He can, if his heart is alive to 
sensibility and these moral virtues, carry them along 
with the zeal and enthusiasm by which he is actu- 
ated, and make them think and feel with him. 

A portion of Scripture, without note or comment, 
should be dailj^ read in school. The Bible is the 
great source of spiritual life and light. It contains 
every thing respecting our moral relations that we 
need to know. There is in many parts of our 
country, a strong opposition to the use of this book 
in the common school. But there can be no valid 
objection to its continuance, unless some considerable 
portion of the scholars would be excluded on ac- 
count of it. No man can be injured by reading its 
truths ; and if he is disposed to receive he may real- 
ize from it inestimable treasures. If God has made 
a revelation of his will to us, he undoubtly intended 
that we should read it. How can we make our lives 
conform to the teaching of his word, if we do not 



278 • THE EDUCATION OF 

Objections considered. 

read it? Is not the opening of school a proper place 
and time for attending to it ? It is objected that we 
have not a true translation, hut this does not affect 
the principle that Grod's word ought to be read in 
school. If we have not the true translation, then let 
us have one tbat is. He has given us his word in an 
exact and definite language, and there is no doubt 
but that it can be made truly into our language. If 
those in present use are wrong, then let the errors be 
pointed Out and righted. It is God's word, not this 
bible or that bible, that we claim should be read to 
the young. We are not yet too wise to do without 
it, and the youthful mind has need of its purifying 
influences. It is objected that we can not under- 
stand it. '^ Do unto others as ye would that they 
should do unto you." Who can not understand 
that? The bible is full of truths just as plain. 
There is enough truth on almost any page, that can 
be understood by the child even in tender years, to 
give us correct moral principles in all the relations 
of life. Every child in the State has the opportunity 
of becoming sufficiently well educated to read and 
understand for himself the spirit and meaning of the 
great moral lessons which the bible contains. I 
would unhesitatingly condemn any disposition on 
the part of the teacher to inculcate narrow or sec- 
tarian dogmas. But against the simple reading of 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 279 
The Bible as a literary production. Its moral precepts. 

the Scriptures, either bj the teacher or by his pupils, 
there can be no reason assigned that can have weight 
in a rational mind. 

If we regard the Bible merely as a literary produc- 
tion, where shall we seek one among the works of 
the greatest masters, that for elaborate finish, for 
figures of speech, for majesty and sublimity of 
thought can be compared to it. Where in the whole 
range of literature, ancient or modern, can we find 
such a description of spring as that portrayed by 
Solomon. " For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is 
over and gone ; the flowers appear on the earth ; the 
time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice 
of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig tree put- 
teth forth her green figs, and the vines with the ten- 
der grapes give a good smell ; arise, my love, my 
fair, and come away." It is but a few words that the 
inspired penman employs. But in those few words 
is brought to mind a combination of the most de- 
lightful and pleasing objects that nature, prodigal of 
beauty, presents. The senses each in turn are regaled 
with an object appropriate to please. 

Where among the books of the sages do we find 
such sentiments as these : " Love your enemies ; do 
good to them which hate you ; bless them that curse 
you ; and unto him that smiteth on the one cheek 
ofier also the other; and him that taketh away thy 



280 THE EDUCATION OF 

Antidote needed. Love of country or patriotism, 

«. 

cloak, forbid not to take thy coat also ; and as ye 
would tkat men should do to you do ye even so to 
tliem." What mind is not made better by the con- 
templation of such truths as these ? Are not these 
the sentiments which, of all others, need most to be 
impressed upon the mind of the child ? Is it not by 
nature selfish and revengeful, and envious and grasp- 
ing? Does it not need an antidote to all these evil 
desires and passions? When our Lord was hanging 
upon the cross, and his enemies were spitting upon 
him, and in his agony giving him vinegar to drink, 
and thrusting their spears into his side, those divine 
sentiments which had marked all his teachings did 
not forsake him, and he prayed, " Father, forgive 
them, for they know not what they do." 

The second of the moral sensibilities which the 
scholar should sedulously cultivate is love of country 
or patriotism. After the allegiance due to our Maker, 
we owe our warmest devotion to the country in which 
we live. It is from civil government that we derive 
the right and privilege of enjoying every other bless- 
ing. The state is the kind mother who dispenses the 
means for using, unmolested and untrammeled, every 
social and virtuous principle ; or, if she fails to do 
this, it is because her children have not been in- 
structed in the lessons of patriotism. For, if the 
rising generation as they grow up to assume the 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 281 

Occasions for instruction. History. Geogi-aphy. 

rank of citizenship, are fully imbued with the love 
of civil liberty and civil rights, they will never per- 
mit any other form of government to dictate to them, 
inasmuch as they are in their sovereign capacity the 
primal source of all civil power. The pupil at school 
should be reminded of these truths, and be taught to 
feel and fully appreciate the spirit of independent 
thought and action, subject only to the law of love and 
virtue. The study of history, which should be one of 
the branches taught in every school, will furnish abun- 
dant opportunity for practically carrying into opera- 
tion the spirit of the principle Avhich has been stated. 
But even if history is not a study in school, and 
there is no text-book in civil science used, there are 
numerous occasions constantly presented, in the oc- 
currences of the school-room, in the allusions of read- 
ing lessons, and in the facts connected with geogra- 
phical science, which may naturally form the basis 
for such instruction. The sensibilities of youth are 
usually alive to feelings of patriotism, and to deeds 
of noble daring. The interest is easily enlisted in 
allusions to those adventures which characterized the 
opening scenes of our revolution. Where is the 
scholar whose heart does not kindle with emotion at 
a recital of the heaven-inspired patriotism of Wash- 
ington ? Where is the scholar whose heart does not 
beat quick in contemplating the self-sacrificing spirit 



282 THE EDUCATION OF 

Eevolution for Independence. TVashington. 

of the hero who, in the flower of manhood, left home 
and the wife of his bosom, subjected himself to the 
varying chances of war, and freely devoted life and 
energy to the future good of his country? "What 
youth is not elevated in spirit as he beholds, in all 
its breadth and loveliness, the sublime virtue which 
was displayed in every event in the life of the Father 
of his Country ? But the feelings which inspired the 
chief were shared by every rank and grade of the 
army to the lowest subaltern in the camp. There is 
something marvelous and sublime in the spectacle of 
a poor people, just established in their homes in the 
wilderness, with no hope of profit or reward beyond 
the inestimable treasures of civil liberty, embarking 
in a cause so arduous, seeing in prospect their prop- 
erty pillaged, their homes burned, submitting to a 
sacrifice of all they held dear, periling even life itself, 
and, in a spirit of unexampled patriotism, gathering 
about their trusty leader and pledging " their hves, 
their fortunes and their sacred honor." 



" Patriots have toiled and in their country's cause 
Bled nobly, and their deeds, as they deserve, 
Eeceive proud recompense. We give in charge 
Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic muse, 
Proud of her treasure, marches with it down 
To latest times, and sculpture in her turn 
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass, 
To guard them and immortalize her trust." 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 283 

Trophies of Miltiades. Sleepless nights. Patriots and martyrs. 

I have always been struck with the spirit of that 
Athenian youth, who declared that the trophies of 
Miltiades would not let him sleep. So thoroughly 
imbued was he with the spirit of patriotism and the 
love for glorious action, that his young heart yearned 
for labors fitting to the hero. The sight of the ene- 
mies of his country, bearing down upon and ready 
to crush her, enkindled within him the desire to 
drive back the impending foe, and vindicate her 
honor and her glory. He envied the renown of that 
skillful leader who was achieving those honors in the 
field which he longed to win. And those sleepless 
nights gave presage of that future brilliant career of 
glory that lay open before him. 

It should be the care of the teacher to impress 
upon his pupils on all suitable occasions, the neces- 
sity of virtuous principle in the conduct of affairs. 
He should strive to implant in their youthful minds a 
love for honesty and integrity of purpose, that may 
serve as their guide in transacting all the duties 
which are incident to citizenship. They should be 
made acquainted with the examples of those sainted 
patriots and martyrs in all ages of the world, who 
have sacrificed their lives to the living principles of 
liberty and truth, and whose names, surviving the 
wreck of thrones and dynasties, will be remembered 
to the end of time. The struggles between privilege 



284 THE EDUCATION OF 

Privilege and despotism. Love to man. 

and despotism from whicli they have been made to 
suffer should be recounted, that the pupil may un- 
derstand the full value of their virtue and at how 
dear a price the present condition of society has been 
purchased. He should be taught by a comparison 
of the most striking lessons to appreciate the differ- 
ence between good and bad government, and to love 
those institutions which we, as Americans, prize so 
much. In a word, the youth of our common schools 
should treasure up the principles of the most en- 
lightened patriotism. 

The third of the moral virtues which should 
receive attention, is love to man. It is compre- 
hended in that golden rule, " Do unto others as ye 
would that they should do unto you," and embraces 
the principles of reciprocity and philanthropy. The 
school is eminently the place where the evil passions 
and propensities are most signally developed. Here 
they are brought plainly to view. Families of chil- 
dren are thrown together. Perhaps the parents 
of those children have had difficulties and cause 
for quarrel, and cherish bitter feelings of enmity 
which are shared by them. Pride of family and 
of birth is brought into collision with the born 
plebeian. The aristocracy of wealth brushes against 
the tattered garments of poverty. It is the task of 
the teacher to reconcile all these conflicting elements, 



THE MOEAL SENSIBILITIES. 285 

Conflicting elements. Spartan youtli. 

to bring peace out of contention, and form and 
beauty out of chaos. The law of love and kind- 
ness is to be established, and the universal brother- 
hood of man to be vindicated in the face of jDride 
and the dubious claims to ancestral honors. He is 
to tax his ingenuity to see how mean, and cowardly, 
and sinful he can make every species of vice appear, 

" And virtue in her shape how lovely." 

It was a part of the education of the Spartan, 
youth to learn to steal, and he who could take that 
which did not belong to him, and avoid detection, 
carried off the palm. "We sometimes see a similar 
disposition manifested in our time. There are those 
who look upon a man who can, by misrepresentation 
and deceit, overreach another in a bargain, as shrewd 
and smart. That species of vice which, in common 
parlance, passes under the name of cheating, is, in 
some circles of society, considered as a fundamen- 
tal element of success in business, and the boy who 
manifests acuteness in the practice of it as possessing 
flattering prospects ahead. It is evident that every 
such propensity is directly antagonistic to the divine 
precept, and that if one be right, the other must 
be wrong. The teacher ought to labor assiduously 
to eradicate from the mind any such impression, for 
it is not only dishonest and sinful in itself, but it 



286 THE EDUCATION OF 

" Honesty the best policy" a sublime truth. 

may be the fruitful source of other crimes of a darker 
dje. That ''honesty is the best policy" is not only 
a trite maxim that is glibly spoken, but it is a sub- 
lime truth that every man would do well to profit 
by. Duplicity may succeed for a time, but ill-gotten 
gains yield little satisfaction to the possessor, and 
they leave a stain upon the soul which neither time 
nor circumstance can remove. There is no feeling 
that so warms a man's heart as a consciousness of 
rectitude. Firm in his reliance upon his innocence, 
he does not fear the face of any man. 

" "What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted ?" 

Hence honesty, in its broadest sense, becomes not 
merely a moral duty, but a duty which he owes most 
of all to himself, to his success and his happiness. 

The minds of children are, in general, keenly 
sensitive to wrong and insult, and the disposition 
to retaliation and revenge is quick. Buoyant and 
ingenuous in spirit, they have not yet learned to 
brook delay and disappointment in the righting of 
wrongs, and the impulse is to take justice in their 
own hands. When cuffed and abused, the propriety 
of turning the other cheek is not quite so apparent. 
The North American Indians believed that revenge 
was a duty and a virtue. Eevenge was sweet to 
them. If a dispute arose between two, and an en- 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 287 
Teachings of our Saviour. Spirit of the precept. 

counter ensued in which one was killed, it was the 
duty of the nearest relative to take up the quarrel, 
and thus eventually whole tribes and nations would 
become involved from a personal altercation^ trifling 
and unimportant. As a consequence, they were 
kept constantly in warfare, and whole countries were 
thereby depopulated. How contrary to this were 
the mild and gentle teachings of our Saviour. Love 
your enemies. Forgive as ye hope to be forgiven. 
The teacher will often be under the necessity of 
reproving and correcting the spirit of revenge in his 
pupils, and if he would make his corrections effectual 
and vital, he must labor earnestly to incorporate 
into their mental constitutions the principles of a 
perfect morality. 

It is vain to attempt to point out all the varied 
forms which a transgression of this golden rule may 
assume. ISTor is it necessary always to take notice 
of all the violations of it that may come to his 
knowledge, or to warn his pupils of all the sins 
which they are liable to commit. It is sufficient if 
he imbue them with the spirit of the precept, and, 
by frequently reminding them, seek to establish it 
as a ruling principle in their character. The great 
design should be to make it appear lovely in their 
eyes, for a youth will never be induced voluntarily 
to adopt a principle and to enter upon a course of 



288 THE EDUCATION OF 

Mask of Comus. Character of youth easily moulded. 

conduct whicli has not first been made to appear 
desirable. Virtuous action ever carries with it its 
own great reward, and he who in youth becomes 
enamored of it, is hkely to enter upon that bright 
shining way that shines more and more unto the 
perfect day, and is surely fortified against the allure- 
ments to vice and folly. The invitation of the at- 
tendant spirit in the Mask of Comus is seasonable, 
and happy is he who accepts it : 

" Mortals that would follow me, 
Love virtue ; she alone is free. 
She can teach ye how to climb 
' . Higher than the sphery chime ; 

Or if vu1;ue feeble were, 
Heaven itself would stoop to her." 

The moral sensibilities comprehended in love to 
God, love to country, and love to man, are the lead- 
ing ones that pertain to our conduct in the affairs of 
life. From the manner in which these are trained 
and developed results that character which we are 
to sustain. During our school days, our thoughts 
and dispositions are pliant and peculiarly susceptible. 
The character is then easily moulded. It is especially 
desirable that wholesome instruction should then be 
given. A neglect of proper training or a wrong 
impression may be the source of incalculable evils. 
Scratch the rind of a sapling, and the crooked and 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 289 
Eequisites for a teacher. Correct habits. 



disfigured tree will bear testimony for ages to the 
work of your ruthless hand. It is im|Dortant that the 
teacher should have a thorough acquaintance with 
the branches he is to teach, be able to explain what 
is difficult in an interesting and intelligible manner, 
and have the desire and the ability to excite in his 
pupils a zealous ardor in the preparation and reci- 
tation of their lessons ; but it is even more important 
that he should be capable and intent upon giving the 
highest and best instruction to the moral sensibilities. 
To this end it is absolutely essential that he be a 
man of irreproachable character, nay, that his life be 
a noble exemplification of the moral virtues. He 
should be a pattern after which his pupils may profit- 
ably copy. The child is naturally imitative, and the 
teacher is placed in a position in which he is con- 
stantly the noticed and the observed, and if his char- 
acter be not exemplary, evil consequences may result 
to his precious charge. It is desirable that the pupil 
should be instructed and encouraged in the adoption 
of correct habits. Neatness, cleanliness, proper care 
of property, order, respect to superiors and to the 
aged, politeness in personal intercourse, kind and re- 
spectful salutations and adieus, courtesy to strangers, 
a becoming modesty and reserve at all times — to in- 
culcate and enforce these upon his pupils should be 

the object of his constant care. But alas! for the 
13 



290 THE EDUCATION OF 



cracked bell. Aaron Burr. BjTon. 



pupils and^ttie best interests of ttie school, if the 
teacher be not himself instructed in these habits. 

We hear much said about the importance of an 
education, and we talk about the inestimable treas- 
ures of knowledge ; but learning and knowledge, and 
all the fruits of study and discipline, are of little 
worth if not under the guidance of correct moral 
principles. 

" Talents angel-bright, 



If wanting worth, are shining instruments 
In false ambition's hand to finish faults 
Illustrious, and give infamy renown." 

A cracked bell gives forth discordant sounds, and 
the more it clatters the more we are disgusted. 
Knowledge without virtue gives to its possessor the 
ability to perpetrate untold evil upon society and 
upon himself, and is immeasurably a worse condition 
than ignorance. Aaron Burr was a scholar of emin- 
ence and one of the most accomplished lawyers of his 
age, but he used his great abilities and his fine learn- 
ing for the overthrow of the most cherished institu- 
tions of his country, and died despised and abhorred 
as a traitor and a villain. Byron, with all his talents 
and fine poetic sentiment, was a shameless rake, and 
with the might and power of his genius, which every 
one of judgment and taste must admire, he inflicted 
a wound upon society that ages of pious teaching 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 291 

Records of crime. The passions. 

and example will not cure. That education may 
be important, and possess tlie value of inestimable 
treasures, it must be under the control of goodness. 
The records of vice and crime which every week's 
paper brings to us, and the disgusting and heart- 
sickening details of the execution of miserable 
wretches even in boyhood, declare with command- 
ing emphasis that our sj^stems of education are de- 
ficient in the culture of the moral sensibilities. 

Every person who has been eminent in a career 
of crime, has, upon reflection, been constrained to 
attribute his unfortunate course to the guidance of 
his own evil passions. Indeed, the passions when 
fired with sinful purposes make a man a very devil. 
But there are no passions of which we are possessed 
that are in themselves evil or unholy. They are 
merely the instruments which we may use for a good 
or a bad purpose. Our Saviour was possessed of all 
the passions w^hich fire the bosom of the most weak 
and sinful, but under the control of fervent piety they 
served to make his life sublime. The passions are 
necessary to the highest attainment of virtue. With- 
out them to inspire us with fervor, our mental facul- 
ties would be powerless. There would be no high 
purpose and firm resolve, no heroic valor and noble 
daring, no martyrdom for truth, no self-sacrificing 
philanthropy. Oar passions are our best having 



292 THE EDUCATION OF 

Kesponsibility of the teacher's position. Needs. "Weakness to falter. 

when -ander proper control, and are the means of 
that high life which commands respect and love. 

The teacher occupies a position of great responsi- 
bility. The importance of the trust must he apparent 
to every reflecting mind. It is a profession requiring 
qualifications the most varied, demanding a combi- 
nation of rare talents and elaborate culture. The 
demands which an enlightened discharge of his duty 
will make upon him, require that he should go forth 
to his labor fully panoplied with knowledge and vir- 
tue. He needs liberal mental culture, but he needs 
most of all a double portion of God's Holy Spirit to 
enlighten his understanding and warm his heart, to 
support and strengthen him in times of trouble, to 
make him firm and resolute in the correction of the 
wrong and the vindication of the right, to guard him 
in the hour of temptation, and to refine and purify 
every holy enjoyment. The teacher, in view of the 
responsibleness of his position and the qualifications 
needed, may despond, and say, these requirements are 
too great for a station commanding so small remuner- 
ation and so little esteem and honor. But you are 
the one to make the profession honorable, to inspire 
people with respect for it and you, and thus merit 
better remuneration. It is weakness for you to falter 
in this cause and fall back in presence of such weak 
foes. He who would win victories in a field like 



THE MORAL SENSIBILITIES. 293 
Sacrifice, labor, instruction. Intelligence an element of prosperity. 

this, must not sbrink from the arduous tasks it 
imposes, or be daunted by the apparent difficulties 
that he may fancy he sees staring him in the way. 

" Then stand ye up, 
Shielded, and helmed, and weaponed with the truth, 
And drive before you into uttermost shame 
Those recreant caitiffs." 

The inhabitants of this village have sacrificed 
their means, and weary hands have builded this 
house, and teachers will be employed to give the best 
of instruction, but vain will be sacrifice, and labor, 
and instruction, if the knowledge acquired is not 
sanctified by the spirit of truth. It is better that this 
noble edifice should at once crumble into ruins, than 
that these pupils should be taught the truths of sci- 
ence without a corresponding cultivation of the moral 
sensibilities. But we will not despond. A noble 
work has been begun. The erection of this house 
is an era in the history of this town. It is a mark 
of the intelligence and public spirit which prevails. 
The first means of prosperity to any community is 
an educated and enlightened people. That nation, 
or city, or hamlet has been prospered most that has 
possessed the most intelligence. The erection of this 
house will give a new impetus to the desire for ob- 
taining it. You now have in your midst a building 
suitable for a school of a high grade. You can now 



294 THE EDUCATION, ETC. 

Conclusion. 

command the means for tile most liberal cnlture. 
May children and parents and teachers and school- 
officers be faithful to their trusts, and by their united 
efforts make this the place where the rising genera- 
tion may come up as to a fountain of living waters, 
and take copious draughts of the pure limpid stream. 
And when the people of other towns shall boast of 
their public halls, and magnificent blocks, you may 
point with pride and satisfaction to this place, and 
say. the best public building of our village is de- 
voted to the education of our children. 



LECTURE IX. 

EDUCATION AND DEMOCRACY THE TRUE BASIS OF 
LIBERTY. 

Delivered at Townville, July 4Tn, 1857. 

FELLOW-CITIZENS:— It is a mark of enlight- 
ened policy that we have a national holiday, 
and I know no time in the year more appropriate for 
the purpose than the fourth of July. The dreary 
winter has given way to the jocund spring. The 
husbandman has drained the damp earth of the 
liquid frosts. The weary ox, bearing meekly the 
yoke, has mellowed up the cold heavy acres. The 
seeds have been scattered, and the vines planted in 
deep trenches. The pruning knife and the imple- 
ments of labor have been applied with tireless hand. 
And now, as the dusty garb of husbandry is to give 
place to the clean habiliments of summer, and the 
grain and fruits are beginning to mature for the 
sickle, what time can be more* appropriate for a day 
of national recreation than this point of transition 
between seed time and harvest. 

The time is appropriate. But were this all, it 



296 TRUE BASIS 



Happy memories. This day brings joy to every class. 

might become dull and meaningless. There would 
be no living motive for its observance. It would 
become a day of debauchery for the immoral, and, 
consequently dreaded and hated by the intelligent 
and virtuous. But it comes to us with happy mem- 
ories and endearing associations, because it marks the 
day of the nation's birth. The youth, the man of 
affairs and hoary age annually look forward to this 
day with buoyant and exhilarated feelings. Those 
who are bending beneath the weight of years are 
carried back to the time 

" When their hearts were stout and brave." 

The celebrations of other days are brought back 
vividly to mind, and they are again aroused by that 
soul-stirring eloquence hurled from the lips of orators 
and poets now mute in death. The man who is in 
the prime of life, whose heart is eaten with care, and 
whose head begins to blossom, is glad to turn aside 
from the toilsome and dusty walks of life and breathe 
the inspiring breath of patriotism, review the origin 
and workings of civil liberty, tremble for its perils, 
weep for its persecutions and rejoice over its tri- 
umphs. And the child leaps for joy, he knows not 
why, for his heart is lit up with hope and anticipation, 
and his affections have not yet been chilled by the 
disappointments with which life's journey is thronged. 



OF LIBERTY. 297 

Toung America's celebration. "Words of the patriot. 

The grave and the gay, the matron and the maid, 
all reckon its approach in eager anticipation, and on 
the morning of this day a nation wakes like the child 
to the enjoyment of a new toy. Cannon herald its 
approach, and bells ring out their merriest peals. 
Music lends her spirit-stirring tones. The blast of 
the trumpet, and the mellow strains from the bugle 
and the horn of the well-regulated band which leads 
on the gay procession, the chorus chanted by hun- 
dreds of living voices, down to the tin whistle and 
jews-harp of the boy who is obliged to stay at home, 
and who gets up a celebration on his own account, 
decorated with vv^ooden sword and a paper hat sur- 
mounted with cockade and feather, and who delivers 
his own oration by crawling up into a tree or the 
back end of a hay cart — all unite to swell the foun- 
tains of enthusiasm. The old patriot uttered truth 
when he looked forth with prophetic eye and said, 
" We shall make this a glorious and immortal day. 
When we are in our graves our children will honor 
it They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with 
festivity, with bonfires and illuminations. On its 
annual return they will shed tears — copious, gushing 
tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of agony 
and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude and jo3\" 

The celebration of this day is not to excite the 

feelings of hatred and exultation over those who 

13* 



298 TRUE BASIS 



The goodly inheritance. Spirited Philippics. 

formerly believed that tbey could with propriety 
pursue a line of policy which was degrading to us ; 
but of joy and gratitude that the fruits of its labors 
have proved so glorious, that the era which this 
day has heralded in, has been so fortunate and happy 
to our youthful nation, that the fondest hopes and 
anticipations of those who took part in its delibera- 
tions have been more than realized, that a combina- 
tion of such fortunate circumstances has centered in 
this, the latest experiment in civilization, and that 
we can this day rejoice together in the goodly inher- 
itance bequeathed to us by the fathers of the repub- 
lic. Indeed, we scarcely remember that England 
ever attempted to force us to subjection at the point 
of the bayonet, and hardly realize but that, in the 
intimacy of her relations with us, she has her fourth 
of July, and celebrates with us the triumphs of lib- 
erty. That feeling of animosity which originally 
existed between the generations which were parties 
to the contest, and that was kept alive and annually 
fed by spirited Philippics on our boasted greatness 
and the defeat of the British arms, was buried in 
the graves of the actors in the scene. 

As the birthday of our nation, we celebrate it. On 
its annual return, our thoughts are naturally directed 
to the history of civil liberty, to its progress among 
the nations, and the struggles it has met. We are 



OF LIBERTY. 299 

Uses of the day. Foreigners. 

reminded tliat we have a country whose welfare and 
safety should be near our hearts. On this day the 
rising generation may learn something of the history 
of the past. They may imbibe the spirit of that 
incorruptible virtue which animated the bosoms of 
our fathers, may understand the dangers they en- 
countered, the hardships with which they struggled, 
the sufferings they meekly endured in establishing a 
form of government which has secured the blessings 
of liberty and prosperity through the successive gen- 
erations, and, as we may fondly hope, to the end of 
time. That portion of our fellow-citizens who come 
among us from foreign countries, and who have 
received their earliest impressions of civil rights 
from experience under government exercised by 
arbitrary power and a system of police, may learn 
the basis upon which our government is established 
and the essence and true spirit of our national origin 
by listening to that Declaration of Independence 
which has just been read, and which is so dear to us 
all. The foreigner who comes here ignorant of our 
laws and customs may, from the song that is sung 
and the words that are spoken, catch a truer no- 
tion, a more genuine inspiration of American liberty 
and American law than from the reading of all the 
volumes of her legal codes. 

But the question which most concerns us, and 



300 TRUE BASIS 

Need of watchfulness. Enemies of popular government. 

which should on this day be the object of inquiry, is 
how we may preserve the institutions which have 
been bequeathed to us. If the government under 
which we live is a good one, and has made us pros- 
perous and happy beyond that of any other nation 
whose history has been recorded, we ought to labor 
to preserve it in its purity. If the liberty we enjoy 
is precious to us, and we are privileged to move and 
act in its sunshine and genial warmth, we should 
guard it as a precious treasure, a priceless gem. 
There is need of watchfulness. The casket that con- 
tains the jewel is always in danger of being rifled. 
Secure in the enjoyment of our boasted favors, and 
flattered by the prosperity which they secure to us, 
we may, in some unguarded moment, be deprived of 
them ; our national temple may be rifled, and we be 
despoiled of our dearest inheritance. The enemies of 
popular government will ever be ready to lend a 
helping hand to compass its ruin. Heartless villains 
in our midst would sell its liberties for the gratifi- 
cation of their own ambition and reckless lust for 
power. To study the means for preventing so la- 
mentable a result, should be the care of every good 
citizen, and shall form the topic of the remainder of 
this discourse. 

To preserve a system intact we should first Tinder- 
stand the princi23les upon which it is based. What 



OFLIBEETY. ' 301 

Basis of civil liberty. Nations of antiquity, Plato. Tully. 

is the basis of civil liberty? The answer to this 
question will point out the interests which we are 
to foster and protect in order to preserve it in health 
and vigor. 

Education unrestricted is the first element of 
national liberty. The history of every civilized na- 
tion has shown that the rights of the citizen, his 
property, his person, are insecure in the midst of an 
ignorant and brutish populace. The nations of anti- 
quity invariably built strong walls of defense around 
their great cities, in which the intelligent and edu- 
cated could assemble with their treasures, where they 
could outnumber and manage the servile class in 
their midst, whose labor they needed, and, from its 
ramparts, could govern and tyrannize over the ig- 
norant and barbarous who dwelt beyond its limits. 
During the best period of the most polished nations 
of antiquity the great body of the people were never 
enlightened. The cities in which letters triumphed 
and art most signally excelled, in which Plato dis- 
coursed upon the principles of his philosophy, and 
where Tully plead, were surrounded by an unedu- 
cated populace. Civil liberty was never enjoyed in 
any of the boasted republics of antiquity by any ex- 
cept the inhabitants of the cities ; and even the rights 
and privileges of these were only possessed so long 
as protected by the strong arm of a great central 



302 TRUE BASIS 



Eepublicanisjn in France. Number who can not read and write. 

power. Their governments were never secure, be- 
cause not founded on the true basis of that liberty 
which they professed. 

Attempts have often been made to establish liberty 
for a people uneducated, and the efforts have always 
failed. The wise and virtuous, with clear vision, 
who have distinctly seen that liberty was best for a 
nation, and have realized in fancy the blessings which 
ought to flow from it, have labored and sacrificed to 
give it to the masses ; but the ignorant and besotted 
have only trodden it under their feet and turned to 
rend their benefactors. Kepublican principles have 
again and again been established in France, but they 
have never lasted a score of years. The efforts of 
her patriots have been unreservedly given to the 
cause, and it has been sealed with the blood of her 
best citizens ; but even at this price it has not been 
secured. And why is it ? Why may not one of the 
most polished and gallant nations of the earth enjoy 
liberty? Why may not the nation which reckons 
among its sons the first scholars of the age, in every 
walk of learning, enjoy this inestimable gift ? Figures 
v/ill tell. The report of the chief of the statistical 
bureau shows that twelve millions! (12,000,000) of 
her population can neither read nor write. When 
we read these figures we no longer wonder why this 
unhappy country has so often failed in establishing a 



OF LIBERTY. 303 

Kequlsites of freedom. Remarks of M. Montalembert. 

republican government, nor wliy it is so often rent by 
turbulent and treacherous factions. Until France* 
shall learn to educate her masses she may never rea- 
sonably hope for the full enjoyment of civil liberty. 

A people to be free must have intelligence. The 
walls with which ancient nations surrounded their 
cities would not have been needed if the common 
people had been educated. If the money which is 



* An eloquent writer in a late French journal says, " Twelve mil- 
lions of our fellow-citizens, entitled to vote and to decide the common 
destiny, are still ignorant of the first rudiments of reading and writ- 
ing." No wonder that he follows this astounding statement with the 
inquiry, "How can France be free so long as you have to drag this 
dead weight, to apprehend the explosion of these embittered and dis- 
contented classes?" Never, of course. A free State including " twelve 
millions" of citizens who can't read or write I The thing is impossible. 
Freedom requires thought, knowledge, scrutiny into the claims and 
measures of magistrates and law makers. The man who is " ignorant 
of the first rudiments of reading and writing" is destitute of the first 

elements and incapable of the first duties of freemen M. 

Montalembert says, that, though he is not an old man he has lived to 
see ten revolutions in his native country. No wonder: he may live 
to see ten more, if he reaches a good old age, with " twelve milhons 
of voters in France who can neitlier read nor write." 

Yet we may shed a tear over the unhappy condition of one of the 
bravest, most generous and highly gifted of races. It is not their 
fault that they can not read or WTite. No man learns quicker or is 
more anxious to learn than a Frenchman. Ages of despotism have 
made them incapable of freedom. It is to no purpose that the same 
journalist affirms, " Our superior culture, our special schools, are the 
admiration of Europe." It is not superior schools nor special culture 
that can make a fi-ee people. — New York Ledger, 1859. 



304 TRUE BASIS 



Education an element of public safety. Kemark of President Way land. 

expended in building lofty walls of defense, and 
maintaining a large standing army, with scarcely a 
less body of police for enforcing laws upon an un- 
willing people, were used in supporting a system of 
common school instruction in which every child of 
the State could be educated, 

" Thick wall or moated gate" 

would be a useless appendage, and battalions of sol- 
diers, with a detective at every corner and by-way, 
would be a needless exhaustion of its life. 

The man who can neither read nor write is not a 
fit person to exercise the elective franchise. Some 
of the States of our confederacy have enacted that 
he who can not read or write shall not vote at an 
election. ^' A man," says President Wayland, '' who 
can not read, is a being not contemplated by the 
genius of our Constitution. When the right of suf- 
frage is extended to all, he is certainly a dangerous 
member of the community, who has not qualified 
himself to exercise it." Knowledge is the first means 
of safety and security to a nation. A body of uned- 
ucated citizens, each with as loud a voice at the 
ballot box as he who is educated, are fit tools for 
the artful and designing. It has always been the 
province of knowledge to dictate to ignorance, and 
so long as there are those who will take advantage 



OF LIBERTY. 805 

Knowledge. Vital questions. Declaration of Independence. 

of the latter whenever the opportunity presents, there 
can be no safety for civil rights till the people, the 
(5////of, are able to "anderstand opinions and the tend- 
encies of measures which they are urged to support, 
and can judge for themselves of their truth or falsity. 
The first element of security to civil liberty is educa- 
tion. If then we would erect a bulwark which shall 
be a substantial means of safety, if we would guard 
against the assaults of o|)en foes, and the more dan- 
gerous attacks of the false-hearted and intriguing, we 
should labor for the ef&ciency of our common schools. 
That form of government which is most favorable 
to the success of civil liberty is that in which the 
decisions upon its great vital questions are kept 
nearest to the voice of the people, so that abuses 
may be speedily corrected when felt. This form is 
a Democracy. The fundamental principles of this 
are embraced in our Declaration of Independence. 
Its simple statements are founded in truth — truth 
which has been developed by the struggles of civil- 
ization during many ages. It is the natural expres- 
sion of the rights and relations of humanity, drawn 
from the experience of every nation that has played 
any important part upon the earth. No man who is 
thoroughly imbued with the principles of Christian- 
ity can deny its truthfulness or justly resist its bind- 
ing force. 



306 TRUE BASIS 



Prerogative and power. The republics of Greece. 

There has always existed a struggle between pre- 
rogative and power, between the class governed and 
that exercising dominion. This struggle originated 
either from the ignorance of the people in not being 
content to submit to wholesome restraint, or from 
an attempt on the part of those who hold the power 
to assume to themselves arbitrary authority. An 
equality in rights and privileges of every member 
must exist, or the class deprived will contend with. 

those who withhold from them what they can jtistly 

• 

claim. Hence, whenever in any nation there is a 

class under the authority of law which is deprived 
of its political rights and can not have a voice in the 
government, then the institutions of that nation are 
not stable. Submission to power without a voice in 
managing it, among a civilized people, will never be 
endured, and, sooner or later, the contest will come. 

We have already referred to the States of an- 
tiquity. Many of these possessed forms of govern- 
ment applicable to th.e noble families of a single city, 
commendable for the extent of political freedom 
which they insured. The democratic republics of 
Greece have long been celebrated as models. The 
philosopher has dwelt upon the excellence of those 
systems till, in his heated imagination, he bas formed 
his conception of the model republic. The historian 
has portrayed in his brightest colors their splendid 



OF LIBERTY. 807 



The model republic. 



triumphs in cabinet and field. He has presented to 
the dazzled eye the tramp of armies clad in buckler 
and helmet and vizored in steel. He has pictured 
the brazen-beaked galleys and fleets covering the 
ocean and meeting hostile fleets — ^the triumphs of a 
handful of republican forces over myriads of bar- 
barian soldiery. He has preserved with care the 
speeches of their orators, powerful and persuasive 
like the words of Jove, and the policy of her states- 
men planned from the profoundest views of political 
philosophy, and fruitful of wonders. The poet has 
sung in his loftiest strains of their triumphs in arms, 
in athletic sports, in letters, in art. 

But while we gaze delighted at this picture of 
renown secured under the protection of democratic 
forms of government, we are filled with far different 
feelings as we look beneath this semblance of liberty 
and see that while the inhabitants of a single city, 
who are enrolled as citizens, enjoy the privileges of 
freemen, and have an equal voice in making the 
laws, the great majority of the people, who culti- 
vate the earth, who bear the heavy armor in war, 
and help fight the stern battles, are in a condition 
of abject slavery and vassalage ; who live tram- 
pled in the dust, forsaken and despised, and die 
unwept, unhonored and unsung. Sparta may boast 
in pompous terms of the freedom of her city, of her 



308 TRUE BASIS 



Boast of Sparta. A nearer view. The helots. 

heraldry in arms, of the vastness of her power, and 
her glory in literature and art. But the tears, and 
groans and blood of her serfs are unnumbered and 
forgotten. 

When we are admitted to a nearer view of this 
boasted free republic, and see the real condition of 
that portion of her State on which she must of neces- 
sity depend for her daily bread, we must conclude, 
according to the proposition which we have already 
advanced, that her institutions are not stable, and 
can not long endure. From the facts in the organ- 
ization of her society we may truly figure her con- 
cluding scenes. Those who were enrolled as citizens, 
and who alone had power in the government, were 
soldiers and gentlemen. They bought and sold, 
heard the news, discussed politics, made laws in the 
assembly, managed the affairs of state, and lived at 
their ease, while the helots performed the drudgery. 
The clear-sighted of the Spartan statesmen plainly 
perceived that so long as these relations subsisted 
between the two classes the ruling party would 
never be secure. They knew that idleness and lux- 
ury would waste the energies of the one, while fresh 
struggles and hardships would fill the other with 
new vigor. Knowing that danger was lurking in 
the future, and anxious to perpetuate institutions 
under which the helots had to do the work while 



OF LIBERTY. 809 

The Cryptia. Two thousand helots murdered. 

they enjoyed leisure and the fruits of this labor, they 
placed the helots under the surveillance of the most 
vigilant police, and atrocious violence was used to 
reduce their strength and break their spirit. In 
addition to this, a law was enacted called the Cryp- 
tia, according to the provisions of which* " a com- 
mission was given every year to a select number 
of young Spartans to range the country secretly, 
armed with daggers, for the purpose of assassinating 
those helots, wherever they might be found, who, by 
eminent qualities of body or mind, had excited the 
fear or jealousy of the government. * * -^^ On 
one occasion, when the weakness of Sparta gave rea- 
son to dread an insurrection of the helots, all those 
whose past services seemed to entitle them to claim 
their emancipation were publicly invited to come 
forward and receive their reward. The bravest and 
most deserving presented themselves, and two thou- 
sand were selected as the worthiest. They joyfully 
crowned themselves, and went around the temples to 
offer their thanks to the gods ; they were then se- 
cretly dispatched, so that the historian could not 
learn the exact manner in which the horrible crime 
was committed." 

No government can long be upheld by such 

* Schmitz's History of G-reece, pages 95, 96. 



310 TRUE BASIS 



No class stationary. 



revolting means as these, and it is a mockery to 
call such a State a free republic. We can as surely 
predict its downfall from its early history as the ris- 
ing of the sun. A halo of glory may surround its 
rise and progress, and its meridian splendor may 
dazzle with its brightness far away in the midst of 
those barbarous ages, but the damp shades of night 
must ere long envelop it, and we hear 



-" its tuneful echoes lancyuish 



Mute but to the voice of anguish." 

No class of people in an enlightened nation can 
long remain stationary. If there is an order which 
is rich and powerful, and which has exalted itself in 
influence above the rank which thej^ leave beneath 
them, and hold the government in their hands, 
they may perhaps be successful for a few genera- 
tions to rule and domineer. But there will be 
members of that class who will become degraded by 
folly and crime, and will deserve to fall beneath 
their companions. No despotic system can keep 
them in their place. ISTo law or force of family re- 
nown can exalt a man and make him respected or 
hold a rank which his ancestors held before him. 
He who has pursued a deliberate course of evil, has 
brought dishonor on himself and forfeited the confi- 
dence of his fellow-men, deserves no longer their 



OF LIBEETY. 311 

Two classes. 

friendship. On the other hand, however much a class 
may be ground down and oppressed, or however 
menial its labor, it will not be long before the spark 
of true manhood which has been implanted in the 
bosom of us all will show itself. There wilLbe a 
desire to rise higher and know more, to imitate deeds 
of heroism, to labor meekly in a true philanthropy, 
and work out a higher destiny. If government has 
drawn arbitrarily the lines between them, and will 
allow none of the former to fall to their true level, 
and none of the latter to rise, then that government 
is not firm, and will soon become the subject of con- 
tention, and will eventually be overwhelmed amidst 
the ruins of the temple in which it seeks to enshrine 
itself. 

There must always be two classes among every 
people. There are those who, by weakness of tem- 
per or inactivity of body will be imbecile to think 
or act ; and there will be those who, with imperious 
disposition and constitutional strength, will push on 
to eminence, whether in the field, the cabinet, in 
trade, in philanthropy, or in letters. But because 
the father was weak it is no sign that the son will 
be so, and the son of the wise may be a simpleton. 
Hence the sons may not be fit to assume the j)laces 
and join the ranks which their fathers filled. If in 
society there is not a free passage between the two 



812 TRUE BASIS 



Business men of New York. A nation tn;ly free. 

extremes^ the progress of civilization is cramped, and 
the safety of the government is endangered. For 
the man who is held in a position above his talents 
or morals, because he has gentle blood in his veins, 
becomes an object of disgust, and impairs our confi- 
dence in the law which keeps him there. And he 
who is prevented from rising to that position for 
which he is eminently fitted, and which he would fill 
with honor and ability, nurtures a hatred of the op- 
pression that keeps him down, which, like a smoul- 
dering fire, is fed by that which is heaped up to 
extinguish it. A large proportion of the active mer- 
itorious business men of the city of New York were 
once poor boys, the sons of farmers and mechanics 
scattered over New England and the adjoining States, 
who annually visit the old homestead in the country. 
"While a majority of the sons of those who were most 
successful in business in a former generation, are the 
bloated inmates of brothel and groggery, or figure 
as dandies on Broadway, and mankind are none the 
wiser or better for their living. 

It is only when there is a free pass from one 
extreme of society to the other, with no restraints 
except virtue and her eloquent persuadings that a 
nation can be said to be truly free — when merit is 
crowned with its deserts. It is then that the mechanic 
arts best flourish. Then nature is most encouraged 



OF LIBERTY. 813 

The Eoman republic. Patrician and Plebeian. 

to perfect lier work. Then literature accomplishes 
its greatest results, and rises to its highest perfection, 
because all have the assurance of a fair opportuoity. 

The contentions which have been constantly going 
on between prerogative and power, and which, have 
occupied almost exclusively the pen of the historian 
in every nation of any note, have originated in a 
departure from the principle just enunciated. The 
Roman republic was founded upon tbe principle 
that the governing was a distinct order from the gov- 
erned, that an aristocracy and menials were the foun- 
dation of power. But that haughty spirit which is 
the characteristic of human nature everywhere when 
placed in a position to domineer, and wbich. was so 
marked a characteristic of the old Roman, soon began 
to manifest itself. The relations whicb originally 
subsisted between tlie Patricians and the Plebeians 
were sucb that the two classes were mutually de- 
pendent upon each other, and were of consequence 
naturally drawn together. But at the basis of this 
organization tliere was established this barrier which 
effectually prevented the worthy Plebeian from rising 
to the rank of a Patrician, and that retained among 
the Patricians, all whether good or bad. 

The opportunity of being unjust begot reckless- 
ness in power. The Plebeian became the object of 

tyranny and insupportable bondage. He was dragged 

14 



814 TKUE BASIS 



Incident of the old Plebeian. 



to the field and compelled to fight the battles of the 
nation. When he returned to his home and found 
it pillaged or burned, and his stock driven away, and 
to replace it was forced to borrow money from the 
Patricians at so exorbitant a rate of interest that he 
could never pay it, he was then sold, thrown into 
durance vile, and compelled to submit to stripes and 
torture. Such is the tendency of power unrestrained. 
It runs into the wildest excesses when not amenable 
to any higher authority. But there was a point be- 
yond which it could not advance. 

An old man who had been despoiled of his prop- 
erty and had fallen into the power of his debtors, 
appeared among his associates covered with blood 
and wounds which were still fresh, and told his sad 
story. This was a signal for universal rising. The 
Plebeians stepped forward in their might, seceded 
from the city, and demanded a restitution of their 
rights which they could claim by virtue of their man- 
hood. Their power was too great to be resisted, and 
their wills too stubborn to be tamed. New political 
rights were granted to them, their debts were abol- 
ished, tribunes, who should defend and represent them, 
were allowed, and that political standing was estab- 
lished which enabled them to cope successfully with 
the Patricians, and to maintain those celebrated strug- 



OF LIBERTY. 815 

Struggles in England. Algernon Sydney. Eemark of Smyth. 

gles which lend to Roman history and to Roman char- 
acter their peculiar charms. 

We have witnessed the same struggles from time 
to time in England. Encroachments upon the rights 
of the people have aroused the indignation of the 
masses. Sanguinary contests have ensued, and al- 
though at times the friends of constitutional liberty 
have seemed to be stricken down, yet it has finally 
appeared that the cause of humanity has steadily im- 
proved ; that in every contention its course has been 
onward. The happy fruits of a constitutional mon- 
archy, one of the most fortunate forms of govern- 
ment, which the English people now enjoy, has been 
secured at a costly sacrifice. The lovers of liberty 
have poured out their life's blood like water in its 
defense. The world does not recognize its benefac- 
tors till it has crucified them. Algernon Sydney, on 
the night before his execution, said that for himself 
lie did not care a chip; but the law which con- 
demned him to the block would condemn every one 
of his associates. "He marched," says Smyth, "to 
the scaffold as to a victory, displaying at his execu- 
tion as at his trial, all the bold and sublime traits of 
the republican character; the untroubled pulse, the 
■unabated resolve, the unconquerable mind, and free- 
dom's holy flame ; the memory that still lingered 
with delight on the good old cause, as he termed it, 



316 TRUE BASIS 



Eepublican character. No blessing without tribulation. 

for wliicli he was to slied liis blood : the imaofinatioa 
that even in death, disdainful alike, of the govern- 
ment, its judges, its indictments, and its executioners 
soared away to some loftier code of justice and of 
right, and hung enamored on its own more splendid 
visions of equality and freedom." 

The struggles of the champions of liberty during 
eighteen centuries could not secure to our fathers the 
inestimable boon without a long and fearful contest. 
The colonists brought with them to these shores the 
experience of all the past. The infant nation was 
far removed from the jealousy and intrigues of the 
old continental powers. But the spirit of arbitrary 
rule followed them even here, in the wilderness, and 
placed its yoke upon their necks. The freedom which 
they sought and for which they had periled the dan 
gers of the ocean, had endured privation, and would 
meet even death itself, was crushed to earth. 

It seems that Providence has so ordered that no 
signal blessing shall be enjoyed without passing 
through tribulation to attain it. Power commenced 
his encroachments, and prerogative must again to 
the onset. It was fortunate in our Revolution that 
men were found equal to the emergency, deter- 
mined to embark in the enterprise and pursue it to 
the last. With firm hearts, and unwavering pur- 
pose, in the spirit of unexampled patriotism, they 



OF LIBEETY. 817 

Ethan Allen. Samuel Adams. 

stood around each other and pledged " their lives, 
their fortunes and their sacred honor." In deed and 
in word they stood faithfully together, and mocked 
alike at promises or threats. The fortitude of those 
has been rarely equaled, who, amidst the greatest 
indignities and bodily sufferings, spurned with con- 
tempt the offers of reconciliation. Colonel Ethan 
Allen was taken prisoner and carried in irons to 
England. The emissaries of the king offered him a 
township in the new world when the war should be 
closed if he would lend his aid to the royal cause. 
The answer of the bold colonel was characteristic : 
" Grentlemen, your proposition reminds me of the 
devil's when he took Jesus up into an exceeding 
high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of 
the earth, and promised that they should be his if he 
would fall down and worship him, when the poor 
devil had not a foot of land on earth." When an 
unlimited price was offered Samuel Adams by an 
agent of the king, he replied, in a determined man- 
ner, "I have long since made my peace with the 
King of kings. No consideration would induce me 
to abandon the righteous cause of my country. Tell 
Governor Gage it is the advice of Samuel Adams to 
him, to insult no longer the feelings of an exasperated 
people." It was such men as these, that filled the 



818 TRUE BASIS 



Conception of a perfect State. 



vision of Alcseus when he fashioned in poetic fancy 
the ideal of a perfect State : 

" What constitutes a State ? 

Not high-raised battlements or labored mounds, 
Thick walls or moated gate ; 

Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned ; 
Not bays and broad-armed ports 

Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride. 
Not starred and spangled courts, 

Where low-browed baseness wafts perfame to pride. 
No ! Men — high-minded men, 

With powers as far above dull brutes endued, 
In forest, brake or den. 

As beasts excel" cold rocks and brambles rude. 
Men who their duties know, 

But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain ; 
Prevent the long-aimed blow. 

And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain. 
These constitute a State ; 

And sovereign law, that State's collected will, 
O'er thrones and globes elate 

Sits empress, crowning good — repressing ilL" 

To education and democracy must be ascribed all 
the triumphs of civil liberty, and to the want of 
these must we ascribe its failures. "Wherever the 
people are enlightened and educated, there a demo- 
cratic form of government is possible, and the fullest 
enjoyment of rights is secured. It is the duty of 
every lover of his country to labor assiduously for 
the permanence of these two principles, for they are 
the basis of liberty. Where liberty is, there is pros- 



OF LIBERTY. 819 

Gifts of civil and religious liberty. 

perity and life. Civil and religious liberty are the 
chief of our blessings. For these have martyrs laid 
down their lives "upon the scaffold and at the stake, 
and myriads of men fought to establish or defend 
them. Take away these, and we are degraded to 
the rank of slaves, of brutes, and life becomes not 
worth the living. Give these, and every faculty is 
exalted, the work of our hands is blessed, the gifts 
of nature smile upon us, and brighter hopes beam 
upon us from the future. 



1 



18Aprl.l860 , 



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